


Finding What Wounds Are Worth

by Khansfringe



Series: Always [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Afghanistan, Alpha!John, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Anal Fingering, Bonding, Fingerfucking, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knotting, Love Letters, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Military Kink, Omega Verse, Omega!Sherlock, PTSD, PTSD John, Postpartum Depression, war mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:05:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 101,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7143992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khansfringe/pseuds/Khansfringe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are finally settled into their lives once more after Sherlock's return from his Fall. Can things go back to as they were? Are old enemies and barriers truly gone, or perhaps will a challenge arise?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from a quote from the original texts.  
> “My friend's wiry arms were around me and he was leading me to the chair.  
> "You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake say that you're not hurt!"  
> It was worth a wound -it was worth many wounds- to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay beyond that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain.” 
> 
>  
> 
> I thank you all who are still here, and I hope that the next installment brings you back to our boys. I wanted to have it all posted by the time I graduate on Saturday, but I've still got some editing. But here is the first half (assuming it all fits under one post). Thank you all, you're the ones who got me finally back to editing. It is a process that is left to me now and it was difficult to come back to it after everything. 
> 
> If you are finding this for the first time you should read the previous three installments as once again we pick up right where we left off with our boys in Goodbye Isn't Forever.

That week was perfect, just John and Sherlock in the silent woods, together. Sherlock's cold cleared up for the most part by New Year and they watched the fireworks from the clearing in the woods, the colours bouncing off of the snow. Sherlock was almost reluctant to go but that changed as soon as he saw how overjoyed and excited Katherine was to see them again. He scooped her up and pressed small kisses to her face as she rapidly told both of them everything she and her Gran had done, baking, colouring, visiting Aunt Harry and Clara when they came back. Sherlock smiled, resting his head on John's shoulder in the cab home. His birthday was in two days, but really he already felt he had everything, deciding not to bring it up. What else could he want?

John had his arm wrapped around Sherlock's waist, his other settled on Kat's tummy as they rode home, their daughter still bouncing excitedly to have them back.

"Did you see the look Mum was giving you?" he asked Sherlock quietly, nuzzling against his hair. He had been tempted to ask Sherlock go take the pregnancy test before they left, but he hadn't found a good time. "I think there's a test you should take when we get home," he murmured. He thought about taking Kat shopping tomorrow, searching for a present for Sherlock's rapidly approaching birthday.

Sherlock smiled, listening to Katherine babble more aimlessly about going to the park in the snow and making angels. He felt his ears warm as John mentioned the test, and he swallowed thickly and shrugging. "I...it might be too soon to tell," he murmured quietly in return, resting his head against John's.

John nodded, nuzzling against Sherlock and smoothing his fingers over his side. "Maybe in a week or so," he suggested softly, kissing his neck. Sherlock swallowed, nodding a little and letting out a nervous breath. He preferred to think that he wasn't, and just be careful until he was. He didn't want to worry about it in the first trimester, if he did have one. That's when he lost the first pup.

"Papa," Katherine said loudly, pulling on John’s shirt collar. 

"What, Katty?" She leaned up, whispering in his ear.

"Gran says that it's Daddy's birthday in two days. What we getting him?" John smiled. "We'll think of something."

He furrowed his brow when he heard his two people whispering, but didn't pursue it. It didn't take someone really good at deductions to know what it was about.

When they arrived at the flat, John paid the fare and then took most of bags into his arms, asking Kat to slide off of his lap so that he could get out. He slid out of the cab, smiling at his two people before walking up to the door and shifting his hold on some of the bags so that he could unlock the door. He quickly shuffled inside, stepping out of the way of a bouncy Katherine as she raced for the stairs.

Katherine rushed upstairs and slid to her knees in front of the doll house, which was still on the first floor of the flat. The tree had come down on Christmas, since they knew they wouldn't want to deal with it when they got back from the cabin. Sherlock took the last couple bags and went up the stairs after John, kicking the door closed gently behind them. He set everything down, glancing at John, and then at the bag that he knew held the test in it.

John didn't catch Sherlock's glance, too busy smiling at Kat. Not wanting to deal with unpacking at the moment, he walking over to his chair and sat down, motioning over his shoulder for Sherlock to come join him.

Sherlock looked over at John and crossed the room, still feeling a bit run down, probably just left over from his cold. He settled onto John's lap, nuzzling against his shoulder and letting out a sigh. Katherine was rearranging the furniture and dolls in her house, playing a game with them and having them converse softly. Sherlock let out a breath, resting his head on John's shoulder. 

"Mmglad we're home." he said softly.

John wrapped his arms loosely around Sherlock's waist, holding him close and rocking him gently. "So am I," he whispered, nuzzling into Sherlock's windblown curls. 

Sherlock smiled softly, watching Katherine as he rested some more. He wanted to give John a boy, and wondered what he'd look like. "What if...it's a girl?" he asked softly, "Assuming there even is an it," he added quietly.

John smiled. "Then I want my damned blond curls," he said teasingly, quiet enough so that Katherine wouldn't hear him swear. "It doesn't matter to me if you have a boy, a girl, or a triceratops," he said, rather serious about it, but joking to lighten Sherlock's mood. "So long as you're healthy and it's healthy, I'm happy."

Sherlock let out a breath. "Personally a triceratops would be a tad uncomfortable so I would prefer not to have one of those." he said with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to John's jaw. He stretched a little, getting up to rustle Katherine's hair. 

"We had dinner at Gran's, it's time for bed little one," he said. Katherine protested lightly, but ended up running upstairs to change after kissing and hugging Sherlock. He walked over to John, "Will you tuck her in? I want to climb into bed, pretty tired from the drive.”

John smiled. "Yeah, sure," he said, leaning up to kiss Sherlock lightly. He was starting to recognise the signs of pregnancy, though he obviously wasn't going to get caught dead saying that to Sherlock. "I'll meet you in bed," he whispered, proceeding up the stairs to Kat's room. He knocked on her door, waiting for confirmation before he walked in. 

Katherine pulled on a pair of Doctor Who pyjamas that Gran had got for her, despite asking if she was sure she didn't want princess ones. The Doctor Who ones were in the boy section, but she didn't care. She quickly ran over to her bed and dove in before saying "Come in!" She poked her head up from her covers, grinning over at John.

John smiled, closing the door partway behind him before making his way over to the bed. "I missed you, you know that, right?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around her small body. "But I know you had fun." He pulled away, grinning at her. "Now, what do you want to get Daddy for his birthday?" he asked her, whispering so that it seemed more top secret.

"Ah missed you too Papa," she said, hugging him back. She grinned wickedly when he started whispering, shrugging a little bit. "Don't know..." She whispered softly, thinking intently. "What 'bout new scarf?" she asked, looking at her Papa. "Get new scarf and then yummy dinner?" she offered.

"You're brilliant, Katty," John said, poking the tip of her nose and smiling broadly. "Absolutely brilliant." He knew what he was doing as his own personal gift for Sherlock's birthday, but he wasn't going to mention it in front of Kat. "Alright, little one. You go to sleep. You and I can go shopping tomorrow, alright?"

Katherine smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to John’s cheek then nodded, snuggling down into her blankets and taking her bear, making sure that John kissed him also. She rolled over, sighing a little as she shut her eyes. John smiled, walking quietly from the room and closing the door behind him. He trotted back downstairs, getting a quick drink of water from the kitchen before walking into the bedroom.

Sherlock walked into the room, stripping out of his clothes and pulling on some pyjamas. He stretched a little, climbing into bed and dragging the covers over himself, curling up with a sigh on the bed. He lay in bed for a little bit, still curled up as he started to doze, wanting to stay awake until John joined him. John smiled when he entered the room and saw Sherlock curled on the bed. He down to his pants, then walking over to the bed, crawling in behind Sherlock and spooning up behind him.

Sherlock sighed, relaxing much more when John curled up behind him. He smiled, leaning back into John. "Hullo," he murmured, rubbing John's wrist and hand that was resting on his stomach. "Mmlove you." 

John smiled, nuzzling against the back of Sherlock's neck. "I love you, too," he murmured. "Kat and I are going shopping tomorrow for your birthday present," he said, pressing his palm over Sherlock's heart. "So you'll have to preoccupy yourself for a couple hours by yourself."

Sherlock sighed, rolling over after a minute to curl up into John's chest. "We just had a holiday, and Christmas...I don't want anything, I have more than enough already," he said, looking up at John, blinking a couple times. "Really...you don't have to," he murmured.

"Even if I didn't want to--which I do--Kat wants to get you something, so you're screwed. And I'll tell you right now, your first two gifts are her idea, and the third is mine," John said, combing his fingers through Sherlock's curls and kissing him softly. "I think you'll manage with a few more things."

Sherlock sighed, closing his eyes. "Who told her it was my birthday anyway?" he asked, shaking his head. He pressed his forehead to John's chest. "What is it she wants to get me?" he asked, though knowing John he probably wouldn't tell him. "And you just got me a cottage...well, us a cottage, but still..." he said. 

John smirked, continuing to comb his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "Mum told her, of course. And I'm not buying you anything, except for what Kat suggested getting you," he said, heavy implications in his voice.

Sherlock looked up at John, his mouth quirking up a little. "Well, that gift I don't mind accepting," he murmured, letting out a breath. He sighed. "I suppose I'll have to endure it then...since the cat's out of the bag and the three-year-old is planning...nearly four though now," he said. "And I'm...nearly twenty-four..." he said, letting out a breath. "Christ..." he murmured.

John shoved Sherlock's shoulder playfully, laughing quietly, not sure if Kat was asleep yet or not. "Hey, shut it. I'm damn near thirty," he said, leaning down to kiss Sherlock lovingly.

"You've still got a few years before that." he said softly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to John's jaw, meeting John's lips when he tilted down his head. "Mmlove you." he murmured. "Even though you’re old," he said with a smirk.

"Two more bloody years," John muttered, pinching a ticklish spot on Sherlock's side. He grinned, kissing him again and again, nipping and sucking on his lower lip. "I love you so much," he whispered, finally settling down and pulling Sherlock against him.

Sherlock gasped, laughing softly as he slapped John's hand away. He sighed, "I love you too...always," he murmured, settling against John and draping an arm over him. "Goodnight," he murmured, shutting his eyes. He fell asleep quickly, exhausted from the drive.

"Goodnight," John replied. He took a bit longer to fall asleep, not managing for another hour. He woke early as well to the sound of small feet on the stairs. He slipped quickly and quietly from bed, pulling on some jeans and grabbing a jumper before walking silently into the living room, intercepting Kat before she would end up in their bedroom. "Ready to leave this early?" he asked, pulling the jumper over his head and noticing her dressed state.

Katherine had woken up and shot out of bed, getting dressed and even trying to do her own hair, though that didn't go so well. She almost giggled when John met her in the hall. She nodded quickly, snarled hair bouncing a little as she did so. "Ready go now," she said in her covert whisper voice, not wanting to wake Sherlock. "Can get breakfast downstairs?" she asked. She liked the breakfast croissant sandwiches Speedy's had. 

"Let's put your hair up in a ponytail, and then we can go eat, alright?" John whispered, ducking into the bathroom to grab the brush and a hair tie. He came back out, asking Kat to stand still before gently combing through her snarls and putting it up with the tie. Sherlock would have done better, but it looked alright. He went into the kitchen, grabbing his wallet and keys and writing Sherlock a quick note before he helped Kat into her coat and boots, pulled on his own, and then led her downstairs.

Katherine nodded, squirming a small bit and letting out soft gasps as the brush pulled at the knots in her hair. She hurried into her coat and boots, grinning as she stomped down the steps. "Come on Papa! Have to eat, then get presents!" she said, tugging on Papa's arm.

John laughed once they were on the main floor, pulling open the door and letting Katherine outside, stepping out after her and closing the locked door behind him. He took Kat's hand, walking with her into Speedy's and waving at the older man behind the counter. They were the only ones in at the moment, so he let Kat pick her spot. 

"It's going to be the usual this morning, I think, Hank," John said, smiling at the man before he had to walk over to wear they were seating themselves.

Katherine ran over and climbed onto one of the chairs by the window, looking outside at the slush outside after casting a wave at Hank. She sighed, slumping back at the seat and swinging her boot clad feet a little. "I miss the snow." she said with a small pout, wishing it had lasted. She leaned forward on the table, resting her elbows on the surface. 

"How'd Papa meet Daddy?" she asked, hearing one of the older kids at day-care talking about her mum and dad, how they met. 

John glanced outside at the slush that was now the new hazard for public transport. He and Katherine would be walking today, just in case. He looked over at her, a little startled at the sudden question. "Well..." he stared, unsure how to answer. “When Papa met Daddy, people like your daddy, who are called Omegas, weren't treated very nice. Your papa met your daddy in a bad place, and Daddy came home with him because Papa was nice." He figured that was a decent enough three-year-old version. Eventually, if she was curious, he could probably tell her the whole thing, but for now, that was fine.

Katherine's feet stopped swinging as she listened to John. She blinked a few times, thinking, "Oh," she said. "Papa is nice though," she said with a small nod, smiling. "Glad Daddy's not in bad place no more," she murmured, sniffing softly. She paused, a new question forming. "What's Omega?" she asked. "Said like Daddy...what Mm'I?" she asked.

John paused, not really sure how to answer. "Omegas can have babies," he said. "That's all." He smiled, reaching out to cup her cheek. "We don't know what you are yet. We'll just have to wait and see. It's a surprise." He wiggled his eyebrows to make it more exciting.

Katherine smiled, still having questions but she was cut off and forgot to ask when the sandwiches arrived. She smiled, picking up her breakfast croissant that had sausage, egg, and cheese on it, biting into it gratefully. She hummed, swinging her feet a bit again as she looked outside. 

John thanked Hank, taking a large bite of his hot croissant, which had bacon, ham, and eggs on it. He poked Kat with the toe of his boot under the table, winking at her as he reached for his coffee, picking it up and taking a slow sip. "How is it?" he asked, nodding at her croissant.

Katherine giggled when John nudged her leg, taking another bite of her sandwich. She nodded, "Mmm...good," she said, still smiling. Hank brought a hot chocolate for her and she took it happily, sipping off of the cup, a moustache of whipped cream forming on her lip.

John chuckled, finishing up his sandwich quickly and sipping at his tea. Hank brought the check and John nodded his thanks, setting enough money on the table to cover the bill and the tip. "Ready to go, sweetheart?" he asked, seeing that Kat was just sipping on her hot chocolate now.

Katherine nodded, tipping up her cup and draining the rest of the hot chocolate. "Ready!" she said, sliding off of the chair. "Want go get Daddy's scarf! Then have pick where taking Daddy for dinner," she said, buttoning up her coat again.

John smiled, nodding as he stood, helping Kat with the last few buttons of her coat. "Alright, let's go," he said, taking her hand and leading her outside. He hooked a left as soon as they were on the slush-covered pavement, walking away from Baker Street and towards a shop had quite a selection of scarves.

Katherine nodded, jumping a little bit as they went outside, splashing in the slush. She looked up when they went into the shop, running over to the scarves, looking at all of them. "Ummmm..." she said dramatically, eyeing them carefully. "Red one?" she asked, pointing.

"Red, hm?" John asked, walking over to examine the scarves. "Dark red or bright red?" he enquired, holding them up for Kat's inspection. He personally liked the dark red one best, but this was Kat's present, not his.

She nodded, "Yes red," She said, looking between the two of them. She stroked them both, but they felt different from each other, making the choice harder. She sniffed, "Dark," She said. "Goes with Daddy's coat," she said, grabbing hold of the scarf with a grin. She walked up and hugged tightly onto John’s leg. "Where taking to dinner?" she asked.

John smiled, hanging up the light red scarf and taking Katherine's hand, leading her to the counter so that he could pay. "I'm not sure," he said. "There's a really good Italian restaurant that your daddy likes," he said, setting the scarf on the counter and bringing out his card to pay for it. "It's called Angelo's," he said, thanking the woman behind the counter and handing the small paper bag to Kat.

Katherine smiled as the scarf was wrapped up nicely and put in a bag. She looked up at John smiling. "Angelo's...hmm...if Daddy likes it," she murmured quietly. "Can I go?" she asked. "I go right?" 

John chuckled, leading Kat back out onto the street. "Of course you can come. This is your present to him, remember?" he asked, ruffling her hair as they started to walk home.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sherlock had woken up a little while after they left, climbing out of bed. He stretched, sighing softly when he saw John's note. Birthday shopping then. Tomorrow...goodness. He let out a breath, walking into the bathroom to shower. He wandered around the flat after his shower, eating a bit of food while he waited. They couldn't be gone that long. He was looking out the window, and he saw them coming up the sidewalk, smiling. His expression paused before he suddenly darted towards the bathroom, leaning over the toilet as he got sick.

Katherine smiled, reaching up to take hold of Papa's sleeve, kicking her boots through the slush. John laughed, squeezing Kat's hand and straightening her as she lost her balance. "Careful, little one," he teased, unlocking the door and leading her inside. "Now you mustn't tell him what we're planning," he said, his voice lowered into their conspiratorial whisper.

"I won't." Katherine whispered, a giggle rising out of her. She raced up the steps and hung up her coat on her hook, hearing a noise in the bathroom. She blinked, then looked down the hall towards the bathroom, "Daddy?" she called. 

Sherlock was leaning over the toilet, letting out a breath before heaving again. "I'm okay Katty...just a little sick." he said.

John crested the steps in time to hear Sherlock's words. He set a hand on Kat's shoulder, giving her a small smile. "Why don't you go play, hm?" he suggested, turning towards the hall. "Love?" he asked, pushing open the bathroom door and stepping inside. He knelt down beside Sherlock, closing the door behind him and rubbing his mate's back. "Eat something foul?"

Katherine nodded, a worried expression on her face. She let out a breath, then walked back to the living room to play with her doll house again. Sherlock looked up when John came in, his shoulders lifting in a small shrug. "Had some meat in a sandwich...maybe it wasn't good." he mumbled, wiping his mouth. He felt a little better now though, not quite like food poisoning. He swallowed, flushing the toilet and leaning against John a bit.

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock, holding him close and kissing his temple. "Or maybe it wasn't the food," he suggested, leaning down to look at Sherlock pointedly. "You didn't take that test yesterday. Would you please take it? Please, love, for me?" he asked, stroking his fingers across Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock rested his head against John's shoulder, blinking once when he mentioned the test again. He sighed, swallowing thickly. "I..." he didn't know why he didn't want to. He just didn't, not knowing felt better somehow. He pushed up off of the floor and out of John's arms, walking back into the bedroom, flopping onto the bed with a small sigh, not sure why he was being so temperamental, but ignoring it.

John sighed, rolling his eyes. Oh yes, he was definitely pregnant. He just wanted the test confirmation, but he wouldn't push for it. He stood, digging the test out of the cabinet, and set it on the back of the toilet. Then he left the bathroom, walking out into the living room and sitting down in his chair, smiling at Kat.

Sherlock curled up on the bed, hearing John retreat down the hallway. He let out a huff, he'd wanted John to come inside and hold him. 

Katherine arranged her dolls in the house, flipping furniture over and making a mess of the house, "Look Papa, someone killed the mom and now a police man and Daddy have to figure out who did it and....and catch bad guy," she said, turning back to play some more. She liked playing detective, and had already staged a robbery in the house as well.

John just smiled and nodded, not quite sure how he felt about Kat taking after Sherlock and himself so thoroughly. Maybe it was just her age, but she hardly even seemed her own person, and she was a three-year-old who was quite interested in murder. He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face and leaning back in his chair with a small groan.

Katherine heard the groan and got up, still holding one of the small dolls. She walked up to her Papa and touched his knee. "What's wrong Papa? Sick too?" she asked, looking back towards the hall. "What's matter with Daddy?" she asked, looking back to him, her face concerned.

John looked up at Kat, his face changing into a soft smile as he pulled her onto his lap. "No, baby, I'm not sick," he murmured. "And neither is Daddy. He just ate something bad. I've done that before," he white lied, rubbing her tummy soothingly with his hand.

Katherine sniffed a little, then nodded. She looked at her doll, "ah...I changed my mind. S'not dead, just sick. Needs doctor like Papa," she said, holding the doll up for him. "Can make him better?" she asked quietly.

***  
Sherlock rolled over in the bed, waiting for John still and huffing a sigh as he rolled out of bed and back into the bathroom. He saw the test there and bit his lip, looking towards the door. Ten minutes later he walked slowly down the hallway, still in his pyjamas and leaned against the door looking at John holding Katherine on his lap. He swallowed, holding the test in his hand.

***

John smiled, taking the doll from Kat. "Of course I will," he said softly, murmuring quietly to Kat and the doll as he "healed" it. After a moment, he heard movement behind him and turned to see Sherlock standing in the doorway, holding what looked like a pregnancy test in his hand. He twisted around, raising his eyebrows. "Did you take it?" he asked quietly.

Sherlock watched the two of them, the doll in Katherine's lap. He swallowed, then nodded a little. "I did," he said softly. Katherine looked between the two of them. 

"Take what?" She asked. "Medicine a'cause Daddy don’t feel good?" she asked. 

"Hang on Katty," John murmured, setting his hand on her lap. He looked up at Sherlock, his brow furrowing a little at the hesitancy in his expression. "What did it say?" he asked quietly.

Sherlock looked at them, biting his lip, he hadn't wanted to know, though he didn't know why. He swallowed, meeting John's eyes, seeing the hope there. He nodded a little, the corner of his mouth pulling up a fraction.

John's face split into a smile, and he set Kat off of his lap, walking quickly over to Sherlock and wrapping him up in a hug, picking him up off of the ground. He kissed him firmly, if a little sloppily, when he set him down. "You're going to be a daddy again," he whispered, cupping his cheek.

Sherlock was a bit surprised by John's reaction, a little unbalanced when he was set back down. He leaned into John's hand, smiling as he nodded. "I...I am," he said quietly, looking up at John. He smiled, glancing over at Kat. "I want to wait to tell her." he whispered. "I wouldn't have the heart to tell her what happened if....if I lose it again." he said quietly. "Please can we wait? Until the first trimester is over at least...maybe for her...and your, birthday?" he asked.

John took Sherlock's hands, squeezing them gently. "Of course we can," he whispered, smiling up at Sherlock. He was too happy to argue about anything at the moment. He grinned again, leaning up to kiss Sherlock. "I'm going to be a father. We're going to be fathers." He leaned his forehead against Sherlock's chest, shaking his head in disbelief. He had known, but he still couldn't believe it. "Christ, Sherlock. Another one," he whispered happily.

Sherlock smiled, nodding a little. "We already are fathers," he murmured softly, glancing at Katherine, who had resumed playing with her doll house, having grown bored with not being in the conversation. "But again...yeah, another one.”

John smiled, wrapping his arms loosely around Sherlock's waist and humming. "A boy this time, please," he murmured, nuzzling against Sherlock's shoulder. "If you would be so kind." He leaned back to look up at Sherlock, winking before leaning up to kiss him. "Come here, let me hold you," he murmured, wrapping his fingers around Sherlock's hand and tugging him towards his chair.

Sherlock smiled, looking down at John as he wrapped his arms around him. he let out a breath, "I'm going to try...do you still not like the name Hamish?" he asked quietly, following John over to his chair and sitting on his lap, curling up and resting his head on John's shoulder. "I want to give you a boy." 

"I'm really not fond of it," John chuckled, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist and holding his body close, loving how perfectly they seemed to fit together. "I wouldn't mind another girl, but I really would like a boy," he said, kissing Sherlock's temple and rocking them gently.

Sherlock smiled, leaning into John as they rocked. He sniffed, his hand resting his hand on his stomach. "Need to get the cocoa butter again...I avoided stretch marks the first time, going to avoid them again," he murmured, watching Katherine. He let out a breath, "Next week we need flowers...for my parent's grave." he murmured.

John nodded silently, setting his hand over Sherlock's. "And then chocolate and coffee, and more flowers the day after that for Stephen's grave." He sighed, hating that all of this came up at once. It made for a very busy month. "Early to bed tonight," he said. "Our daughter is going to be up at oh dark thirty tomorrow morning for your birthday."

Sherlock sighed, nodding a bit. "No coffee for me I guess," he mumbled, sighing a little, leaning up and nibbling at John's jaw gently before pressing a few kisses there. His stomach churned once more, and he nuzzled closer to John, trying to ignore it. 

John sighed, closing his eyes as he held Sherlock closer. Everything was perfect in this moment, and he doubted anything could ruin his mood.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was four weeks later, and Sherlock's birthday had gone exactly as planned. John and Katherine had given Sherlock his scarf, and they had gone to Angelo's for an early dinner. He had spent the night worshiping Sherlock's body. A week later, they had visited Sherlock's parents' graves, leaving Kat with Mrs. Hudson, because they didn't think that she was old enough to understand yet. The next day they had repeated the process, going to visit Stephen's grave. John didn't get upset anymore, but he still felt duty-bound to visit his fallen brother. 

"I'm going down to get the post!" he called over his shoulder to Sherlock and Kat, who were playing in the living room before he trotted down the stairs, picking up the few envelopes and the folded newspaper lying just inside the door. He mounted the stairs again, flicking through the envelopes--mostly bills--until his eyes fell upon one that was addressed to him without a return address. He opened it up, unfolding the letter and quickly reading through it.

"No..." he breathed, freezing just over the threshold and reading the letter another three times before he dropped the stack of mail and fled to the bedroom, not wanting to go into a panic attack in front of his daughter.

Sherlock was doing a walkthrough of Katherine's dollhouse, throwing out deductions on the "crime scene" she'd set up. He looked up as John came up the stairs. Eyes moving to look at the dropped letters as John fled the room He leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to Katty's head. "You keep playing babe," he murmured, getting up and rushing down the hallway and too the room. "John?" he asked, shutting the door. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, sitting on the bed and putting his hands on John's shoulders.

John sucked in a shaking breath, letting out a harsh sob and leaning forward into Sherlock's embrace. "I can't," he cried, his body shaking uncontrollably. "I can't do it. I can't, Sherlock, I can't."

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, "I don't understand...what's wrong? John, tell me," he said. "What's going on?"

John couldn't answer for a long while, trying to stop his panic attack before it fully set in. "They're making me go back," he said, after nearly five minutes had passed. "They're calling me back to service." He clung to Sherlock's shirt, more tears falling from his eyes as he buried his face in Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock felt his heart seize up in his chest, his stomach dropping. "No," he said, swallowing. "No they can't...they can't!" he said, clinging onto John tighter. "I won't let them...Mycroft, he will fix this." he said. "Make it so that they can't pull you. He can do this; I promise please...we'll fix this." 

John sobbed. "The letter... said that... because I didn't finish my term, and they're short on doctors, that I'm required..." He couldn't finish the sentence, too distraught to speak.

"No," Sherlock growled, clinging tighter onto John. "No... they’re not taking you again," he said. "I just got back, it hasn't been a year, and then we had barely two years after you got back for two years and no they can't," he said, shaking his head. 

John just shook his head, knowing that Sherlock couldn't do anything to stop them. "Not going would be treason, Sherlock," he said quietly.

"Mycroft's the government!" he said. "He brought me back to life, giving me an alibi! Cover stories all of it and you think he can't stop this?" he said, pulling away from John, looking at him, not realizing his face was wet. "You're just going to give up and leave!?" he said.

John stared at Sherlock, dumbfounded. "You think I would just give up? Honestly? After all the hell that I've been through, after finally getting something good in my life, do you really think that I would just lie down and take this? No, Sherlock, I bloody well wouldn't. Mycroft's the government, yes. Who the hell do you think sent the bloody letter? The government."

"He wasn't paying attention!" he said, tears still moving down his cheeks. His hand was resting on his stomach without realizing, and now hated that he was pregnant. "This isn't FAIR!" he shouted, forgetting about Katherine in the other room. "THEY'RE NOT TAKING YOU AWAY FROM ME AGAIN!" he said, getting up and pacing the room, pulling out his phone. His brother answered on the first ring. "HOW COULD YOU LET THAT HAPPEN?! YOU BETTER FIX THIS MYCROFT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!" he shouted, weaving his fingers into his hair.

Mycroft answered his phone as soon as it rung, listening to his brother's shouts with well-deserved cringes. He ran a hand down his face, leaning his elbow against his desk. He had known this was coming. "There's nothing I can do, Sherlock. The order is above me. The army needs soldiers, and John was the first on their list."

John looked up at Sherlock in alarm when he started yelling, following his pacing figure around the room. When he passed by the door, his eyes found another shape lurking in the doorway. Kat. He held out his arms to her, scooping her up when she ran to him. "Oh, baby, it's alright," he whispered, rocking her slowly.

Sherlock spat a string of names and curse words at Mycroft, throwing the phone against the wall where it shattered. He looked back in time to see John scoop up Katherine, rocking her gently. It broke his heart, and made him sick at the same time because this wasn't fair. "WHY BOTHER LYING?!" he said, storming out of the room and down the hall. He paced a little, tugging at his hair and opened up the cupboard above the stove, pulling out a bottle of liquor.

John set Kat down and ran after Sherlock, yanking the bottle from his hands before he could open it. "Stop it," he said firmly, grabbing his mate, his love, by the shoulders. "Stop this, right now." He slid his hands up to cup Sherlock's face, forcing their eyes to meet. "You can't do this. You have a daughter that's terrified of what's going on, and you have a baby growing inside of you, and they both need you. Sherlock, please, please stop this."

Sherlock growled a little as John took away the bottle. "I can't do this again!" he said. "I can't have...this," he said, gesturing to his stomach. "alone, I can't...have her alone. When you were in that hospital she wouldn't even talk to me!" he said. "You almost died last time John...they almost took you away forever..." he said, gulping air down, having trouble breathing and almost feeling like he was going to be sick. He'd been more temperamental since he'd been pregnant and now this wasn't helping. 

"She's not like that with you anymore," John said softly, shaking his head. "You're her daddy, and she needs her daddy. And so does this one," he added, resting his hand over Sherlock's stomach. "And you won't be alone. You have a multitude of friends. I know it won't be me, love, I know. God, I know it, but you have to be strong for me. For us." He wiped hastily at his cheeks, holding his eye contact with Sherlock.

Sherlock shook his head, his breath hitching a little as he tried to breathe properly. "I... I don't want...I don't want it…without...without you I...John, you can't....when?" he asked, still panting, his head feeling lighter than it already had. It had felt a bit off the last couple days, but he'd known it was a normal symptom of pregnancy. He looked at John, then his eyes moved over to see Katherine standing in the doorway of the kitchen, peering out cautiously. 

She sniffled, and Sherlock felt his heart rip out of his chest, still not able to breathe right. He looked back at John. "I...I..." he'd forgotten how to breathe this time, picturing John in that place again, and he blacked out, knees giving out as he fell unconscious, not hearing the scared scream Katherine let out.  
"Jesus," John yelped, barely catching Sherlock as he crumpled. He lowered him to the floor, knowing it wouldn't be good to do a surprise move on him in his current state. "Katty girl, come here," he murmured, standing up and walking over to her, wrapping his arms around her small form and holding her tightly. "It's okay, honey, everything's fine. Daddy's okay, he's just scared like you."

Katherine sniffed, edging out into the kitchen and wrapping her arms around her Papa, looking at her Daddy. "Why's Daddy scared?" she asked quietly, "Why Papa's crying too?" she asked in a small voice, hiccupping, crying also because she was scared. "Daddy?" she called, but Sherlock didn't stir.

"It's alright, Katty," John promised. "I'll explain it all when your daddy wakes up, alright? He's sleeping right now; his mind has to organise everything that just happened. He's got to think it all through." He combed his fingers through Kat's hair, rocking her gently. "You don't have to be scared, sweetheart, I promise."

Katherine snuggled close to John, looking back at Sherlock. She sniffled, still feeling scared though. Something was wrong, she knew it was wrong. "Heard Daddy yell," he said quietly. "Someone taking away my Papa?" she asked quietly.

John flinched, knowing that he couldn't lie to her now just to tell her the truth later. "I won't be gone for long, baby. And I'll be coming back, I promise," he whispered, because damn it all to hell, he was coming back. He had made it back before, and he could do it again.

Katherine wrapped her arms around her Papa's neck, holding onto himself. "But why going away?" she asked. "Where going? Going 'way like Daddy did a'fore?" she asked in a small voice, remembering how sad Papa was before Daddy came to the flat. She sniffed, looking down.

"I have to go away so that I can help people," John explained quietly, rubbing Kat's back. "I have to save them and make their owies better. I'll be a long ways away, but I'll be able to video message you, I think, and I'll be writing letters." He kissed his daughter's temple, petting her hair. "And no, love, it's not quite the same as when Daddy went away."

Katherine sniffled again, curling up in her Papa's arms, staying quiet. Sherlock stirred finally, pulling open his eyes and tilting his head up, realizing he was on the kitchen floor. He shifted, sitting up and looking over at John holding Katherine. He swallowed, wrapping his arms around himself. "When?" he asked, "and how long?" he said something about finishing his tour, they'd said two years, and he'd been gone nearly one. So one year, right?

John shuffled a little awkwardly across the floor, carrying Kat with him, until he was sitting beside Sherlock, their arms touching. "The plane leaves in a week, seven a.m. They said that my tour this time is going to be a year and seventy-nine days, finishing out the time I had missed." He sighed, leaning his head against Sherlock's shoulder. He wouldn't cry about this anymore right now; he could do that tonight.

Sherlock didn't move, looking across the kitchen. He felt Katherine's hand reach out and rest on his cheek and blinked, lifting up his hand to cover hers. John would miss her birthday, and they would miss his. He would miss the new pup being born, and Katherine's next birthday, and the holidays in between. The pup would be nearly 8 months old when he came back, if he came...no, he wouldn't think that. "I hate them," he said. "I hate them so much..." he said, swallowing thickly.

"I know," John whispered, trying not to choke on his words. He was being re-gifted his old rank as Captain, assigned a new team. He was being forced back into the one place he had sworn he would never return to, and he was leaving a family behind. "I hate them too."

Sherlock exhaled, his hand moving back to rest on his stomach, looking down at it. "You'll miss everything...how am I supposed to do it alone this time?" he asked quietly, reaching over and taking Katherine, holding her close. "I'm sorry for shouting," he whispered softly. 

"S'okay. Daddy...jus'scared." she murmured, curling up against him, her feet still resting in John's lap.  
"You won't be alone," John repeated insistently. "Mum and Harry will take care of you, and Mrs. Hudson is right downstairs. I'll write to you again, and I'll talk to them over Skype. You won't be alone, Sherlock, I promise." He would have to go over to his mum's soon, and Harry would have to be there. He didn't want to leave, didn't want to tell them. 

"I'll never forgive them for this." he said quietly, staring across the room again. "And if you do what you did before, you do that again," try and die, "then I'll never forgive you either." he said, leaning against John and letting out a breath. He swallowed, sniffing softly. He nuzzled Katherine's hair gently, working on keeping his breathing steady for Kat’s sake. 

John let out a shaky breath. "I'm not going to. I didn't try to last time, either," he murmured quietly, closing his eyes. He sighed, pushing to his feet. He ran his finger through Kat's hair and then through Sherlock's. "I'm going to take a shower," he said quietly, walking into the bathroom and closing the door softly behind him.

Sherlock nodded, he knew John hadn't tried, and he'd come home after all. He would fight with Mycroft, get him assigned somewhere further from the lines, in a recovery hospital if at all possible. He had more to live for now. When he left the first time it was just Sherlock, now...it was more than that. So much more. He got up carefully, carrying Kat and sitting in John's chair, cuddling her close to him. "It's going to be okay." he said quietly, trying to reassure her...and himself.

John turned the water on hot, then stepped out of his clothes and walked in. He whined a little on instinct at how hot the water was, but he didn't step out of it. He stood directly under the spray, letting the sobs tear through him until it eventually brought him to his knees, his arms wrapped around his stomach.

Sherlock continued to rock Katherine gently, the toddler curled up in his lap, her thumb slipping into her mouth before she fell asleep. It had been nearly her naptime anyway. He got up, resting her down on the sofa and covering her before stepping into the steamy bathroom. He reached in, turning the water off, seeing John curled up at the bottom of the tub, skin red. "John," he said in a broken voice, forgetting his clothes as he climbed into the tub also and curled himself over the top of John's back, wrapping his arms around him. "I love you...so much, please don't disappear before you go...you have to come back," he said.

John hardly noticed when the water turned off, but he jumped a little when Sherlock climbed in behind him, wrapping him up in his arms. "I can't go b-back," he cried, rocking back and forth, his hands still wrapped tightly around himself. "I can't leave you alone. I can't face all of that again, I just can't!" he nearly screamed, hitting his palm against the bottom of the tub. 

Sherlock felt like his heart was breaking, though it broke the moment John said he was being sent back. "Shh...shh John, it's okay...it'll be okay," he said, holding John tightly in his arms. John couldn't go back like this, they couldn't take a soldier who would just break down on the front lines, a doctor whose hands would shake. Maybe they could use this. "John...we'll set up a meeting, you'd have to get a physical anyway...we...we'll make sure you're not fit for active duty," he said, though really...as he was, he wasn't fit for duty.

John cried harder. "No-no physical. One week, then on a plane," he said between his sobs, leaning back into Sherlock's arms and trying to stop his cries. He turned around in Sherlock's arms, burying his face in his neck and wrapping his arms around Sherlock's neck. "I love you so much," he whispered, clinging to him.

Sherlock whined, that wasn't fair...they had to see it though, when he got there, got a gun in his hand, they had to see he wasn't fit for duty. "I love you too John...always, my John." he said. "My John...and they're never taking you away, just don't you dare say that like you're saying goodbye," he said, biting back a sob.

"I'll never say goodbye to you," John promised, "not even with my dying breath, because I will always see you again. And I'm not dying until I'm one hundred and two, because I have to outlive my granddad," he teased, though he was still crying, still sobbing.

Sherlock nodded, still holding onto John, weaving his fingers into his damp hair, which would be cut short again. "It's not fair...we've been through enough. Most of it my fault...and I'm sorry for that," he said, letting out a breath. "When you come back, we are stealing away to that cabin for the rest of our lives, and just leave everyone behind," he said. "It'll just be us and our babes, and no Fatcroft or government...no one," he said.

John pushed out a laugh, wrapping his arms tighter around Sherlock and nodding against his shoulder. "Alright," he murmured. "Alright, I can live with that." He ran his fingers over Sherlock's back, nuzzling into his shoulder before slowly pulling away. "Come on," he said quietly, wiping at his eyes, "you need to change and I need to get dressed."

Sherlock hiccupped a little, sitting up and pulling John close again. "I don't want to. You shouldn’t get dressed, run down the street stark naked, then they'll call you mad and you can't go back. They won't give a gun to a madman," he said, trying to scent John's neck, but the water had washed most of it away, much to his distress. He climbed out of the tub, reaching over quickly for John's dressing robe, smelling that. "It's going to disappear again..." he said.

Sherlock's words brought a laugh and then a sob to John's lips as he climbed out of the tub, walking over to Sherlock and wrapping him up in his arms. "You've got Kat," he murmured, clinging to him. "She smells like both of us. And you can't, you can not abandon her. You cannot let your feelings get in the way of taking care of her, and then of the new one, alright?" He pulled back, cupping Sherlock's face in his hands. "You promise me, okay. Promise me."

Sherlock let out shaky sigh, burying his face into John's shoulder, pressing his lips to his scar. He shivered in his damp clothes, shaking his head a little. "I can't," he said quietly. "I can't have it by myself...I can't do that again without you John..." he said, knowing that begging John wouldn't change anything. He couldn't help it. Katherine's scent wasn't the same, if anything it would be a reminder of what he didn't have. 

John let out a small sob, holding Sherlock's head against him and combing his fingers through his curls. "You have to," he said, "you have to take care of them. You have to be strong for me, okay? They need you. I need you." He kissed whatever part of Sherlock that he could reach, still combing through his hair. "You're so strong, Sherlock, so brave. My love, you just need to be a little more."

Sherlock bit back a sob, almost feeling like he was going to be sick. He nodded, his face still buried. He coughed, dropping the dressing gown and clinging onto John. He let out a breath, pulling away and rubbing his arm. "S'cold," he mumbled quietly, walking into the room and starting to peel off his clothes, shivering again, though not entirely from the cold.

John followed after Sherlock, walking over to the dresser and pulling on his pyjamas. He walked over to the bed, crawling under the blankets and turning down Sherlock's side in invitation for him. "Come here," he said quietly, reaching his hand out for Sherlock to join him, wanting the comfort of his closeness. 

Sherlock pulled on some dry pyjamas as well, standing by the window and looking out it. He heard John call him, turning and looking at the bed. Once again they were giving them a week. One week...it wasn't fair. Their daughter was turning four next month, John's twenty-eighth birthday. He looked towards the door, Katherine was probably still asleep on the sofa. He wandered over to the bed and climbed into it, curling close to John.

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist, pulling him close and tucking the Omega's head under his chin. "I'm coming back," he promised, reaching up to comb his finger through Sherlock's hair. "I'll be back in time for your twenty-sixth birthday, and then we can go away to the cabin for as long as you want. Screw the world and responsibilities; it'll just be us, okay?"

Sherlock nodded again, not making a noise. He wouldn't do that; he wouldn't cry again. He couldn't afford to do that, John had to think, no, he had to know that Sherlock could do this. If John didn't worry...it would be fine. He nodded again, gripping onto the front of John's shirt tightly. "J-just us," he said with a nod again.

John nodded, rubbing his hand down Sherlock's back. "Everything will be okay," he promised. "They said they wanted doctors, not infantry medical aids. I volunteered to be both last time. I'm not doing that, not this time," he promised, kissing Sherlock's forehead. 

"Papa? Daddy?" John leaned up, looking towards the door to see Katherine standing there, wiping at her cheeks. "Can I sleep with you?"

Sherlock looked over his shoulder, and waved Katherine over. She quickly climbed up on the bed and he rolled over after scooping her up with one arm and sandwiching her between them. He let out a breath, kissing her head. "Of course you can," he murmured softly, looking up at John. "No front lines?" he asked quietly, looking at John.

John rubbed his hand over Kat's belly, trying to sooth her back to sleep. He looked back up at Sherlock, shaking his head. "Not unless they need me. Basically, unless we get attacked, I'll be staying in the hospital." He kept his features optimistic, hoping he was convincing. He knew it didn't always work like that. He wasn't a doctor, not really. He was a soldier, one of their best close-quarter marksmen. They would offer him close to anything to get him into a team and onto the lines.

"You'll say no," Sherlock said, shaking his head. "I don't care what they say...if you can you say no. I'm going to be selfish this time, and you matter more to me than any of them," he said, combing through Katherine's hair gently. Katherine looked up at John, sniffling a little. "How long Papa's going be gone?" she asked quietly.

"About fifteen months," John murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "It'll be alright, though. Daddy's going to be here, and Gran Gran's going to be coming over more often, and I'm sure Gran Hudson will be coming up with whole bunches of treats for you," he said, smiling a little and poking the tip of her nose. "I'll be back before you know it," he whispered, glancing up at Sherlock when he said it.

Katherine sniffed again. "Fifteen months...going to come back for...for my birthday?" she asked, looking up at him. "I'm gonna be four," she said, rubbing her nose. Sherlock let out a breath, John would miss her next two birthdays, and they would miss his. 

"I know, sweetie," John said, smiling a little, a bit of a sad twinge in his eyes. "You're such a big girl, aren't you? I'll try to get in a video message that day. Keep the laptop on, alright?" He kissed her forehead, petting his fingers through her hair. "I love you, Katty."

Katherine sniffled. "I'm big girl," she said in a small voice, nodding. She wrapped her arms around John, a small noise coming from her. Sherlock didn't blame her; he was holding composure for her sake as well as John's. He let out a breath, swallowing thickly. 

"Yes you are baby girl," Sherlock said, combing through her hair. "And you have to be a big girl because..." he looked up at John, so much for waiting for their birthday. "Because you're going to be a big sister...and you have to help take care of your baby brother or sister." 

John looked up at Sherlock, holding onto Kat as she clung to him. He was glad Sherlock had said it, fairly sure that it would be a good distraction for Katherine, at least for a short while. He nodded at Sherlock, lifting the corner of his mouth into a small smile as Kat turned around to look at her daddy.

Kat looked up at Sherlock and he exhaled softly, seeing her face pinch in a very Sherlock-like confusion. "What mean Daddy?" she asked.

"It means that Daddy's going to have a baby...I have one in here," he said, resting her hand on his stomach. "Just like with you, and because...because the Army is being mean and making Papa go away for work I need you to help me," he said quietly.

"Sherlock," John reprimanded gently, reaching up to comb through his hair. "The Army needs me to help them so that we can live happily here," he told Kat as he set his hand over Sherlock's on his stomach. "You're going to be Daddy's big helper, aren't you, baby?" he asked, kissing the top of her head.

Sherlock sighed, looking down. He didn't care, he wanted Katherine to hate the army, they were taking away her Papa, his John, again. Katherine nodded, looking back at John and then to Sherlock's stomach again. "Gonna be big helper," she said, looking up at Sherlock with a small smile. 

John didn't want Kat to hate the army. They weren't bad, they weren't the enemy. It wasn't their fault that John had a family, and he wasn't the only soldier that had a family. Stephen had left a mate and two pups behind. John wasn't going to do the same. "I know you will, baby," John whispered. "You're my good girl."

"Yeah...gonna be big helper and big good girl for Papa and Daddy and then...then Papa's gonna come home," she said with a nod, smiling. Sherlock sighed, it was so easy for her, she didn't understand where it was he was going. 

"No front lines," he said again, curling up close to John. If he was squishing Katherine at all she certainly didn't complain.

John sighed, wrapping his arm around both Sherlock and Katherine to keep them close. "No front lines," John repeated, though he knew that things could happen. "And you're keeping that promise," he said, nuzzling into Kat's hair.

Sherlock nodded a bit again, looking down at Katherine who piped in quietly with a "Yes...keep promise." Sherlock looked up at John again, staring at him, taking in his every look and detail. John didn't belong in that place; he should never be going back. He was supposed to stay here, with them. 

John reached up and stroked his fingers across Sherlock's cheek. "It's alright," he said quietly. "It'll be alright." He knew he couldn't promise something like that, not after the last time, not after what it had done to him, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Sherlock closed his eyes as John touched his face, keeping his breathing steady. Nothing felt alright, nothing did. He and John decided, made the choice for a pup, and now...now he would miss it, and they would miss him. And he wouldn't be safe because there was no promise of safety where Sherlock couldn't reach him, especially over there. Katherine fell asleep quickly, sucking on her thumb again lightly, which she did when she was worried about something. He let out a breath, if only it was that easy to soothe himself.

John slipped out of bed, quickly walking around and crawling in behind Sherlock and circling his arm around his waist. "I know," he said quietly, nuzzling against the back of Sherlock's neck. "But I'm coming home, promise. And you can kill Mycroft if I don't."

"I'll force feed him cake until he bursts," he murmured, knowing full well if John didn't come back...he didn't know how he'd come back from losing John. "I can't lose you," he said quietly. I wouldn't be here if not for you," he said softly. “Neither would she...or this," he said, moving John's hand to his stomach. "Without you...I...I can't function," he said.

John made a small sound, holding onto Sherlock tighter. "You did it for two years, and so did I. We'll get through this, and then we won't be apart again, alright?" He could feel tears slipping down his cheeks, but he kept his arms around Sherlock, kissing his skin.

"You said that before," he said quietly. "And when I was gone for two years, I knew you were safe. I know you thought I was...was dead, but you knew I was. There was no unknown. This is nothing but that," he said softly. "Not knowing is worse." 

John let out a shaking breath, rubbing his thumb over Sherlock's stomach. He was going to miss it, all of it. The ups and downs, the swollen belly, the cravings for stupid foods that Sherlock hated. "You have to tell me. All of it. What it starts craving, what kind of music it likes. I wanna know when you get crabby, when you get stupidly sad, and I don't--I do not--want you to ever think about me not coming back. Because I am coming back, and we're both going to be stupidly loving parents who spoil their children."

Sherlock looked down, nuzzling down into Katherine's hair again and nodded, a small whine coming from him. He gently shifted Katherine and rolled over to wrap his arms around John, burying his face into John's chest, a sob escaping him. "I don't want to have to tell you, I want you here to see it," he said, a surge of emotion going through him which he knew wouldn't normally if his hormones weren't thrown off so much.

John sucked down a breath, holding Sherlock close to him. "I know, love," he whispered. "And I'm so sorry that I won't be here." He buried his face in Sherlock's hair, cradling him against his chest and quietly crying. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I'm so, so sorry."

Sherlock continued his quiet sobs that shook his whole body, eventually calming down some. He was silent for a while, holding himself close to John. "It's not your fault...and you'll be back soon. We'll be busy...time will...will fly." He was trying to reassure himself as well as John.

John didn't know if that was true or not, but he would be back, he would, so he nodded, combing slowly through Sherlock's hair in hopes of soothing him. "I'll be back before you know it," he whispered, kissing the top of Sherlock's head and rubbing his back. "Everything will be okay, I promise."

Sherlock nodded, resting his forehead against John's chest. His stomach was in knots and he realized that he hadn't eaten dinner, and Kat had fallen asleep without it as well, he didn't move though, closing his eyes as he breathed in John's scent which was returning slowly after the shower. He didn't feel hungry and couldn't be bothered to get up and eat.

"You're alright," John soothed, his voice steady again, though he himself was nowhere near. They laid in silence for quite a few moments, just breathing in each other's scents. "I'm going to have to call Mum tomorrow. Harry too," he whispered. "We'll all have to make a trip over there so that they can see me before I leave, and then the rest of the week is yours."

Sherlock blinked a couple times. "Okay," he said flatly, staring at John's chest, though it was almost as if he was looking through him, eyes not focused. He let out a breath, shutting his eyes and blocking out the world, except for the sound of John's breaths, and Katherine's behind him.

John wanted to pull Sherlock out of wherever he had gone--because it was quite evident that he wasn't fully paying attention anymore, but he didn't have it in him. Sherlock needed his time, and though John wanted to be selfish and take all of that time and keep it for himself, he knew he couldn't. "I love you," he breathed into Sherlock's hair, following the words with a soft kiss.

Sherlock heard John's words and committed the sound of them in this instance to memory. "Always," he said quietly, not quite fully retreated to his mind palace. He roamed lightly in his wing for John, Katherine's in a room off to the side of John's, because he couldn't reach her without thoughts of John. He arranged a small cupboard, which would grow as John's and Katherine's had, when it was born.

John nearly choked on the sob that suddenly tore out of him, cradling Sherlock close. If he could have curled up inside of his mate's ribcage and never left, he would have. Instead he traced the outline of their bondmark with his finger, committing its shape to memory and pairing it with Sherlock's "Always."

Sherlock hummed lightly, shivering a little and nuzzling closer to John instinctively at the touch on the mark. He sighed, relaxing more at the warm touch, curling up into John and finally falling asleep, clinging onto John's shirt.

John didn't sleep. He cried off and on most of the night, flashes of memory from his first trip haunting him as he laid in bed, holding Sherlock. It was five a.m. when he finally gave up, disentangling himself from Sherlock's grasp and grabbing his phone as he padded out into the living room. He dialled a number, sitting in his chair and pulling his knees up to his chest. He heard the click of connection and let out a shaking breath. "Harry," he whispered, his voice shaking.

There was a tired hum as Harry picked up, though she woke up more at the sound of her brother's voice. "John?" she asked, concerned. "Johnny what's wrong? You know what time it is?" she asked. "Is it Katherine, or Sherlock?" she asked.

John shook his head, though he knew she couldn't see. "No," he said quietly, looking back towards the hallway. "No, they're sleeping. I... I need to talk to you, because I can't talk to Sherlock about it." He swallowed, resting his forehead on his knee.

Harry sat up, rubbing her eyes and stepping out of hers and Clara's room. "What's the matter John?" she asked, voice full of concern.

John took a breath, wondering which order he should say what was wrong. Did she want the list in alphabetical or chronological order? "Sherlock's pregnant again," he said first, just so that she would know why he was freaking out so badly, "and I'm being shipped back to Afghanistan in six days."

There was a long pause on the other line as Harry tried to string together what her brother just told her. "Shit," she said, "I...John that's not...that's not fair. They sent you home. You're home now," she said. "I mean that's...that's great about Sherlock, really but...I thought, that your shoulder...that you couldn't go back?" she said, stunned.

John rubbed a hand down his face, leaning back in the chair and looking up at the ceiling. "They sent me home because recovery would have taken up the majority of my time there. But my shoulder's functioning, the only position I can't hold it in for very long is straight up, and apparently they need doctors."

Harry let out a shaky breath, "Johnny..." she said softly. "Oh my god I...what are we going to do? What can we do?" she asked. "There has to be something..." she said, swallowing. "They are not putting you on the front are they? Just in hospitals once the medics get them pulled back yes? You'll be safer?" 

John bit his lip. "That's... what I'm calling about, Harry." He closed his eyes, pressing the heel of his hand against one of them. "I don't know where they're going to put me. It sounds like they're stationing me in the hospital, yeah, but Harry, I'm a Captain. I'm going to get assigned a team, and I'm going to have to delegate their missions, and... Christ, I'm probably going to get sent of a few of them--the more dangerous ones."

"Johnny..." she said, "God...this isn't right." she said, shaking her head, scared for her brother. "Have you told Sherlock?" she asked softly, rubbing her head. "Christ, we have to tell mum. At least you told us...this time, before going off to that place again," she said quietly.

"I know it's not, sis, I know," John whispered. "I told Sherlock that I'm leaving, but, Christ, I can't tell him that I'll be going out on missions. Not when he's already so worried. And pregnant. Jesus, this is all... fuck." He let out a breath, hastily wiping at his eyes. "Yeah, I'm calling her in a couple hours. I wanna see you guys before I leave."

"Damn right you're going to see us; we'll want to see all of you." she said. "Christ...are you sure that you shouldn't tell him? He might find out..." she said, shaking her head. "We'll help him, well mum will definitely," she said quietly. "For how long this time Johnny?" 

"I know he might find out. If something happens.... Nothing's going to happen, so it'll be fine." John said firmly, running his hand through his hair. "He's going to need the help; I can tell you that. He was moody last time, but this time... his hormones are all over the place. Kat's a strong girl, but I don't want him to have to care for her all the time. And he's going to need someone there when he..." John bit his lip, overwhelmed again that he wouldn't be there for the birth of his second child. "Fifteen months," he said quietly.

"John..." she said softly, a lump in her throat. "He'll have all the help he needs, if he'll take it. And I know that brother of his will see to that he's cared for as well. You just take care of yourself, and we'll see that they're taken care of," she said, "Okay?" 

Small footsteps padded down the hall and Katherine walked down to the living room, rubbing one of her eyes. "Papa?" she asked sleepily. "Why go out here?" she asked quietly, her curls in a snarled messy poof on her head.

John looked over at Katherine, waving her over. "I will, Harry, I promise. I'll talk to you later, okay? Love you." He hung up as soon as she replied, setting the phone down and picking Kat up. "Hey, Katty girl. I was just calling your Auntie Harry. Why are you up so early?"

Katherine slowly walked up and then climbed up onto John’s lap. She sniffed, snuggling close to him. "Can't sleep no mores." she said with a shrug, holding onto him tightly. "Don'want Papa to go," She said in a small voice. 

John's heart clenched and he held Kat tighter, kissing her cheek and nuzzling into her hair. "I don't want to go, either, sweetie," he whispered, rubbing her back. "But I won't be gone for very long, I promise."

Katherine sniffed again, "Daddy's sad," she said quietly. "Like Papa was sad a'fore," she murmured. She didn't like Papa going away, and she missed him, and he would miss her birthday, their birthday. Papa always called her his birthday present. She furrowed her brow a little, looking up at John. "Where's the baby at?" she asked, "My brother or sister...where are they? Gonna get here a'fore you go?"

"Oh, honey..." John whispered, rocking Kat a little. "I know Daddy's sad. But it'll be okay. You and I were okay, right? And you'll talk to Daddy like you talk to me, won't you?" he asked, leaning back and cupping her cheek. "And no, I won't get to see the baby before I leave. He or she will be here around September. Right now it's growing in Daddy's tummy."

Katherine sniffed, shrugging again. She looked up at John and then nodded a little. "But...Papa's always here," she said quietly, glancing down the hall towards their room. "Does Daddy go 'way too?" she asked quietly. Sometimes he went to work for a couple days and Katherine was always nervous that he wouldn't come back. "How'd baby get in Daddy's tummy?" she asked in what seemed to be an afterthought.

"But I won't be here for a while, and I want you to talk to Daddy, okay?" John asked, stroking his thumb over her cheek. "Daddy won't be going anywhere," he promised. "I'll tell him that he needs to stay home with you, alright?" He had to laugh at Kat's question about the baby. "It's a bit like magic, sweetie. It just grows there. That's just where babies come from."

Katherine furrowed her brow a little, confused. Why didn't Daddy grow a baby before? She nodded, resting her head on her Papa's shoulder. "Maybe....maybe tell armies that Papa needs stay home too," she said quietly, playing with the fabric of his shirt, twisting it between her fingers.

John bit his lip, lifting his eyes to the ceiling to try and keep from crying. "I don't think that would work, baby," he said quietly, combing through her hair. "Papa needs to go help the people over there. He needs to help the army people that have owies so that they can come home to their families."

Katherine nuzzled against John's chest again, sniffing softly. "Then Papa comes home too...after." She curled up, still resting her head and eventually her eyes started to shut. She fell asleep as the sun was starting to rise, still clinging onto John, thumb finding its way to her mouth again. 

It wasn't long after sun came up that Sherlock piled out of bed into the bathroom, not even fully awake yet before he started retching, throwing up into the toilet.

John heard Sherlock move around in the bedroom, and as soon as he heard the retching, he gently pulled Kat's fingers from his shirt and set her down on the sofa. He walked into the bathroom, kneeling down beside Sherlock and rubbing his back. "It's alright," he murmured quietly.

Sherlock stayed hunched over the toilet, resting his head and arm on the seat of it. He let out a breath, "No it's not," he mumbled. It wasn't alright, and it wouldn't be alright for another fifteen months. He spat into the toilet, his stomach heaving again before he sat back, leaning back against John's chest. "Why can't we ever catch a break?" he asked quietly, his tone flat. "If I were one to believe in them I’d say we're cursed." 

"Maybe," John said quietly, nuzzling between Sherlock's shoulder blades. "But my mum used to tell me that every person has one thing that they're really good at, one thing that they need to do. I didn't get to finish my last tour, Sherlock, and that's what I'm really good at. I need to finish it out, so that other soldiers can come home."

Sherlock whined, turning around and climbing onto John's lap, wrapping his legs around John's waist. "I don't care about them," he said, not caring that he was being selfish. It was his right, they'd been through enough and he had John's pup in him. "I care about you, my soldier," he said, burying his face into John's neck.

John wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock's waist, burying his face in the crook of his neck. "I know. But I care about them. If I didn't have to go, believe me, I would never have volunteered again. But, Sherlock, you can't run a war without doctors. These soldiers have families too. They need to come back to them."

Sherlock let out a breath, shaking his head. "They'll find more doctors..." he said, knowing it wouldn't change anything. "You need to come back." he said, holding close to John. "I want my John...I'm tired of being away from you, I've only had you back for ten months," he said quietly.

"I will come back," John promised, kissing up Sherlock's neck until his lips rested over the mark on the side of his neck. "You'll get me back. And then we'll be inseparable. I'll put handcuffs on us, alright?" he whispered, turning his head to kiss Sherlock's temple.

"You promise...you promise me John Watson," he said quietly, still scenting John's neck. "We were supposed to get married," he said quietly. John wanted right after the pup was born, but Sherlock was going to try and convince him more. He knew he'd get what he'd wanted. Now...he would have to wait longer.

John nearly sobbed, clutching Sherlock close to him--maybe his nails were digging into his back, he wasn't sure. He didn't answer with words, instead pressing his teeth to the outline of the mark. That was his promise--that he would come back, that they would still get married.

Sherlock whined, almost falling apart all over again when John's teeth pressed to his mark. He tightened his hold on John, pulling away a fraction only to press his lips against John's, peppering kisses on his jaw, cheeks, anything he could reach. He wanted John, while he could still have him. "I love you...so much, always John, always," he said between kisses.

John cupped Sherlock's face, holding him still. He didn't wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked between Sherlock's eyes, taking in his emotions. He nodded slowly, hooking his hands behind Sherlock's thighs and picking him up, stealing a kiss from Sherlock as he carried him back into the bedroom.

Sherlock kept his limbs wrapped around John tightly, pressing open mouthed kisses to John's neck, and up to his ear which he nibbled on lightly. He hummed, biting back the sob that almost wanted to burst from him, channelling it into another firm kiss.

John set Sherlock gently down in the centre of the bed, crawling over him and kissing him like he would never be able to kiss him again. He was still crying, knowing that this would be their last time before he left. He pulled back just long enough to take off Sherlock's top, then started kissing down his neck, roaming his hands over his body, memorising everything.

Sherlock hummed, leaning up into the kiss, his hands moving up under John's shirt and tugging it off as well. He unwound his legs from John more, pulling John down closer to him. His breathing was hitching slightly, and he let out a huff that was half a sob. "K-Katherine?" he asked breathlessly, wondering if the timing was okay for this.

"She was up at five and fell asleep about forty minutes ago," John whispered, before latching his lips over one of his nipples, sucking and scraping gently with his teeth. He reached between them, cupping Sherlock through his bottoms and rubbing just slightly.

Sherlock moaned softly, shifting beneath John and rolling his hips up into John's hand. "Christ..." he breathed, thrusting up again. He still felt scared, and small, and wanted that to go away. "John....John remind me, I, I'm yours..." he begged quietly, reaching up and trying to nip at John's jaw, attempting to issue a challenge like he used to. "Just yours…" he murmured.

John growled, biting down on Sherlock's neck to hold him down while his fingers quickly worked at taking of Sherlock's bottoms and pants. He tossed them to the side, quickly taking off his own before moving his way down Sherlock's body, marking him with scratches and bites, bruising him, marking him. Claiming him. "You're mine," he said, managing it without sobbing. "You're all mine."

Sherlock whimpered, moaning as John rand down his torso, the scratches and bites stinging, but reassuring. He nodded, his eyes shutting as he ground upwards again. "Mm...yours, always," he breathed, panting a small bit. "Until you’re back, and every day after that," he said, reaching down to pull John up again to kiss him. He'd stopped crying, knowing he could do this. He would have to, John could last two years without him, and Sherlock would last just over one without John. Then nothing would happen, they would be fine. 

John kissed Sherlock back roughly, reaching over to the nightstand for the lube. "You're always mine," he growled, keeping Sherlock pressed down into the mattress as he slicked up his fingers and circled his entrance. He left Sherlock's lips, biting and sucking on his nipple as he pressed the first finger in.

Sherlock hummed, leaning his head back into the mattress. He nodded, his thoughts pushing out like they once had till nothing was left but John. JohnJohnJohn... "Yours," he breathed, moaning as John pushed into him. He let out a breath, blinking his eyes open and looking down at John, reaching up and combing his fingers into John's hair.

John hummed, moving down as he worked his finger into Sherlock, opening him up enough to push a second finger in. He licked a line up Sherlock's erection, circling the glans and sucking on them lightly.

A whine rose out of the Omega, who was writhing beneath John, pushing up into John's mouth slightly, and then quickly down again onto John's fingers. "Christ...fuck, John!" he moaned, almost beseechingly. He clenched around John's fingers, more sensitive to the gentle touches than he normally might have been. 

John slipped a third finger in, circling his prostate to draw those delicious noises from Sherlock. "I'm going to make you mine again. Always mine," he growled, reaching for the lube again and pulling his fingers from Sherlock so that he could slick up his length.

Sherlock whined when John pulled out of him, and he sat up a little more to reach out for John frantically, as if he was about to disappear. "John!" he said, pressing his lips to his shoulder, and his scar. "God...please," he begged, his erection almost aching, he needed John.

John groaned, lining up with Sherlock and immediately pushing into him, sinking in to his hilt. "Anything for you," he breathed, pulling back and pushing into Sherlock again, rocking his hips so that he always hit Sherlock's prostate.

Sherlock cried out when John pushed into him, moaning softly as he did so, not wanting to wake up Katherine. He bit down on his lip, and tried to roll up his hips for some friction. "A-almost anything," he panted, knowing that the one thing he really wanted from John, John couldn't give him.

John buried his face in the crook of Sherlock's neck, biting back a sob as he thrust hard into Sherlock. "I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to keep up a steady rhythm, his fingers combing through Sherlock's hair, twisting around the curls.

Sherlock hummed, nodding. "I know..." he breathed, gasping as John brushed against his prostate. He moaned softly, burying his face into John's hair. "Tug..." he breathed, pulling his head slightly away from John's hand to pull his hair.  
John pulled hard at Sherlock's hair, moving his head and exposing his neck. He bit down on a straining tendon, sucking a painful bruise. He sped up his thrusts, pounding hard into Sherlock, taking control, making him his. Sherlock went limp under John when he bit at his neck, vulnerable and exposed, everything he hated when it wasn't John. But it was and he still felt so impossibly safe. He moaned softly, one of his hands slowly reaching towards his length, needing the friction, and he forgot to ask permission. John bit down harder, growling and pounding harder into Sherlock. He tasted blood, suckling on Sherlock's neck and lapping at the pinpricks of blood he had made. He felt his knot swell, pulling harder on Sherlock's hair, his nails digging into Sherlock's hip.

Sherlock's hand stopped reaching and he went limp again, well, most of him did. He cried into John's neck, muffling his noises as he came, feeling John's knot swell within him. He was breathing erratically, laying still on the bed as he tried to steady himself, his eyes fluttering shut. "I...John, you...you're...perfect....mine," he breathed.

John gasped as he came, his knot swelling rapidly as he buried himself inside of Sherlock. "Fuck," he whispered, nuzzling into Sherlock's neck and massaging his hands against his scalp.

Sherlock hummed, leaning into John's hand gratefully. "Mmknow....mmlove you too," he murmured quietly. He winced a little as he turned his neck, starting to feel sore now that the high of climax was passing. He would get his scratches and bites cleaned when they showered. He sighed, nuzzling into the hand in his hair.

"God, I love you," John whispered, leaning up enough to cover Sherlock's lips with his own. "I love you so much." He rested their foreheads together, closing his eyes and biting his lip. "I'm coming back, okay? I am. I promise." He rolled them over quickly so that Sherlock was on top, enabling both of them to relax. He pulled the covers over them, rubbing his hands over Sherlock's shoulder blades. Sherlock hummed, resting his head on John's chest, listening to his heart. 

"I know. You'll come back, you'll always come back, just like I did," he said softly, relaxing on top of John with a soft sigh. He murmured quietly, words not really making sense. "And it will just be the four of us," he said quietly with a small smile, trying to imagine what it would be like.

"It'll be perfect," John whispered, closing his eyes and combing through Sherlock's hair. He sighed, hugging Sherlock to him. "I called Harry this morning. I need to call Mum here in a bit," he said quietly.

Sherlock hummed, "It will," he said quietly, listening to John as he spoke "We'll go over there today," he said quietly. "Go see them both." He shut his eyes, snuggling against John's chest. "It'll go fast, and it'll be fine. You're working at a hospital, easy as that, no front lines...no guns," he said softly, feeling more relaxed at the thought. John would be safe.

John closed his eyes, relieved that Sherlock felt that way. He wouldn't tell him now, even if he had thought to. "I know. Everything will be fine," he murmured. He felt his knot slowly recede, whimpering a little as he slipped from Sherlock. "Let's shower, and then I'll call Mum."

Sherlock didn't move from where he was at first, wincing as John pulled out of him. He hummed, slowly rolling off of him and off the bed, standing up. He reached over and pulled at John's arm before wandering into the bathroom, seeing the marks on his body and neck from John. He sighed, turning on the shower and climbing into it, letting out a breath as the hot water poured over him.

John didn't want to get up, because getting up meant getting ready to go to his mum's. It meant saying goodbye, even if it was only for a short while. He let go of a breath, hearing the water start up, and slid out of bed, walking quietly into the bathroom and climbing in after Sherlock. He reached for the shampoo without saying anything, squirting some into his palm and reaching up to slowly work it through Sherlock's hair. He took his time, massaging the shampoo against Sherlock's scalp, watching his eyes dip closed and listening to the soft hum he made. Leaning up on his tiptoes, he kissed Sherlock's nose, then backed away so that he could rinse. 

Sherlock hummed, leaning into John's hands and sighing as he always did when John's hands pulled away. He rinsed off, taking a little longer than normal before reaching for the bottle of conditioner he rarely used. "This too," he ordered gently.

John looked at the conditioner for a long moment before he took it, putting some into his hand. He set the bottle down, then reached up, massaging the thicker substance into Sherlock's thick curls, trying to memorise what it felt like. It nearly killed him to know that he wouldn't be able to remember everything. He had forgotten so much after Sherlock had left, and he would inevitably do so again. The thought nearly brought him to his knees, but he managed to stay standing, taking his hands slowly from Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock relished the hands in his hair, nearly purring, ignoring the fact that this was the last time for more than a year that this would happen really. He rinsed his hair, wincing as the water ran down the fresh bite on his neck, which he could tell was already starting to bruise. He washed himself off, helping to lather up John as well. Eventually they were both clean but they continued to stand there in the shower, Sherlock's arms snaking around John's waist. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's shoulders, nuzzling against his shoulder. He didn't want to ruin the moment by talking, so he stayed silent, just listening to the water and feeling Sherlock beside him.

Sherlock sighed, nuzzling John's shoulder as well. "Soon enough," he murmured, kissing John's jaw before reaching back and turning off the water. "Katherine will want breakfast soon," he murmured quietly, still not feeling hungry himself. He climbed out of the shower and quickly towelled himself off, tossing the towel to John before retreating slowly into the bedroom to get dressed, sore all over, but he didn't mind.

John sighed, drying off and walking into the bedroom. "You need to eat something," John said quietly, pulling on some pants and a pair of jeans. "Or I won't." He knew it was low, but Sherlock had done the same to him once, so it didn't make him feel as bad.

Sherlock pulled on some clothes, not wanting to get dressed at all, but he wouldn't let John out of his sight, not even to just go to his mother's. "I'm fine...I'll just sick it up anyway," he mumbled quietly, running a comb through his hair quickly and turning to glance at John. "Erm...going to get Katty dressed," he murmured, starting from the room.

John pulled on a jumper before he followed Sherlock from the room. He smiled slightly when he watched Sherlock wake Kat up gently, carrying her up the stairs. He found his phone by his chair, quickly calling his mum and saying that they would be over soon. Sherlock was just walking down the stairs when he hung up.

Katherine got dressed nearly by herself, Sherlock making quiet suggestions for what to wear. He did her hair, and Katherine looked up at him, noticing his somewhat shut down expression. "Go play with your dolls," he murmured, kissing her head as he let go of her hand as he turned into the kitchen to start making her some toast and eggs.

John smiled at Kat, tucking his phone into his pocket as he walked past her, brushing his hand through her hair. "We're going to see your Gran and Auntie today," he murmured, kissing the top of her head and walking into the kitchen. He stepped up behind Sherlock, wrapping his arms around his waist and nuzzling against his shoulder. "You're alright," he whispered, leaning up to kiss the back of his neck.

Sherlock let out a breath as John kissed the mark on the back of his neck. He sighed, nodding once a small bit. He didn't feel alright, but he would be fine, in fifteen months he would be fine. He leaned back against John as he fixed some eggs for Katherine and John, sliding them onto a couple plates and buttering the toast. "Katty, breakfast," he called, helping the three-year-old tuck into her seat. He set the other plate on the table and leaned against the counter. 

John saw the food set out for him, but he stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest and stood beside Sherlock, his lower back resting against the counter. "I already told you that I'm not eating unless you do," he said firmly. "You can split that with me, or I'll just end up throwing it away." He knew that Sherlock had said he would probably just sick it up if he ate, but John didn't feel good, either, and if he was going to eat, so was Sherlock.

Sherlock sighed, looking up at John. "I don't want to argue," he muttered with a sigh, lifting up the plate and scraping half of it onto another one before carrying one out into the living room and sinking onto the sofa, not wanting Katherine to see him sulk. He begrudgingly started to eat, nibbling on the toast a little.

John stared after Sherlock, baffled and shocked and... a little hurt. He walked over to the table and sat down, pushing the eggs around on the plate with his fork. This wasn't how he wanted to leave things. Just fast sex and then sulking, arguing. He ran a hand through his hair, unable to help worrying how Sherlock was going to do when John left. He couldn't just do that--walk away from their daughter whenever he felt like it. His stomach twisted and he pushed away his food, lowering his shaking head into his folded arms.

Sherlock dropped the toast onto his plate and sighed, setting his plate down. He swallowed, then stood up, carrying the plate and setting it on the table, sitting next to John rather than across from him. he scooted his chair closer to John and rested his head on John's shoulder, giving a small smile over to Katherine who grinned back, eating her eggs happily. "I'm sorry," he murmured quietly.

John gave a huff of breath in response, not trusting himself with words. He would either start crying again, or--god forbid--start yelling, and neither would be good things to do at all, let alone in front of Kat. So he stood up instead, taking his plate and dumping the food. He set the dishes in the bottom of the sink and walked from the room, ruffling Kat's hair as he left. He walked into the bedroom, sinking down onto the mattress, and just stared at his hands for a few moments. His body started moving before he really knew what he was doing, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen from his nightstand and starting to make a list of everything he would need. 

Sherlock felt almost as if he'd been slapped, and sat there, feeling like a kicked puppy. He swallowed, eating some more of the food, hoping it would make John feel better knowing that he was doing so. He swallowed, waiting for a little bit at the table and clearing Katherine's dishes when she finished. "You go play, I'm going to talk to Papa before we go to Gran Gran's house." he said, starting down the hall. He edged into the door lightly, fingering the old scars around his wrists, "I really am sorry," he murmured softly.

"Sorry isn't enough to get you out of this one, Sherlock," John answered, his voice quiet, because he was still afraid of yelling, still afraid of falling apart. "Sorry doesn't reassure me that you're not going to forfeit taking care of our daughter so that you can sulk in a corner. Sorry doesn't tell me that you're not going to starve yourself and end up hurting the baby. Sorry doesn't promise me that you're not going to give up hope that I'm coming back." He tossed the paper and pen aside, staring up at Sherlock with hurt in his eyes.

Sherlock felt kicked again, and looked down with shame, of all the things he'd said that had hurt and belittled others, John was the only one that could do the same to him. He swallowed, feeling a lump try and form in his throat. "I...I won't," he said quietly. "I promise I won't...I'll take care of her, and...and myself," he said, taking a small step towards John, wanting to be close to him. "A-and the baby," he added, "I don't want to hurt them...or you." Though it was his fear of John never coming back that was harming him more than anything.

John bit his lip and looked away, taking a deep breath before he held out his hand towards Sherlock. He still couldn't look, couldn't lift his eyes to Sherlock's, but he had seen the hesitancy in Sherlock's step, had seen the uncertainty and the fright in his eyes. He was an Alpha--he was Sherlock's Alpha--and he had to make that better, even if it felt like he was stabbing himself in the chest when he did it. 

Sherlock swallowed, and could tell that John was almost reluctant to hold him. He paused, forcing himself not to step forward into John's arms. "You don't want to," he said quietly, sitting on his side of the bed. "I can tell...it's okay," he let out a breath, swallowing thickly. "I'll have to get used to it anyway, only talking to you from a distance," he said, trying to take a steadying breath. "I'm sorry I'm like this, I can't help it I feel...off, hormones I guess. I hate it as an excuse, but it's a valid one." 

John sighed, feeling like he had just let his mate down, and dropped his hand back to his lap. "I'm sorry," he whispered, apologising for too many things at once. "I shouldn't be scolding you. I know... I know that your hormones are off and that you're going through a lot." He looked over at Sherlock, meeting his eyes and holding them. "But I need you to promise me--promise me and mean it--that no matter how horrible you feel, no matter how messed up your hormones are making you, you will put a smile on your face and take care of Katherine, and that you'll eat, so that the baby grows properly."  
Sherlock held John's gaze, swallowing thickly. 

"I promise." he said. "She's one of the most important people in my life, I would die for her...I did die for her,” he said quietly, rolling onto his side and curling up. "I wouldn't just give up on her, ignore her when she doesn't have anyone else. You could have a bit more faith in me...I don't mind starving myself, but I wouldn't starve our pup...not when you want him so much." 

John turned away again. He knew he was failing Sherlock on countless levels, but he couldn't stop the seed of doubt that was growing. He shook his head, standing from the bed and walking over to the cupboard, pulling out his old rucksack and going through it, pinning down what was in there. He reached for his list, crossing off what he had just found, and then moving to find something else. He worked himself up, hunting things down and packing them away, and his stomach rolled. He ran into the bathroom, kneeling down by the toilet and dry heaving into it, having nothing in his stomach to throw up.

Sherlock swallowed, hearing John pack and feeling his chest grow heavier with each item packed up. He heard John in the bathroom, waiting for him to return to the room before rolling over to look at him. "I promise, I really do...I'll take care of everything here, and when you get back it'll be to two happy, well fed children, and an equally to well enough fed mate that will be waiting for you," he said, holding out his arms this time, hoping John took the invitation. John stared at Sherlock's spread arms for a moment longer than he probably should have before walking over to the bed. He sunk down beside Sherlock, gathering up his Omega into his arms. There was still a part of him that didn't want to, but a larger part did, and he knew Sherlock needed it.  
"I'll try to come back in one piece this time," he whispered, nuzzling against Sherlock's neck and scenting him. Sherlock let out a relieved breath when John took him up close. He sighed, managing to smile a small bit. 

"I know you will," he murmured. "I'll tear the mickey out of you if you don't, but...however you come home...you just come home," he murmured, nuzzling into John's neck as well. He shut his eyes, memorizing John's scent further, categorizing it.

John sighed, closing his eyes and letting himself get flooded by Sherlock's scent. "You can keep my tags," he said quietly after a few moments had passed. "They're going to issue me knew ones, anyway." He reached up and combed through Sherlock's hair, having already forgotten how it felt--like silk running through his fingers.

Sherlock nodded a small bit, his hand running up to rest over the bump on his chest where the tags rested under his shirt. He let out a breath, "I will." he murmured. "And when you get back, I'll wear those...maybe Katty will want these...she's been after them for a little bit anyway." he said softly.

John closed his eyes, nodding. "Alright," he whispered, rocking Sherlock gently in his arms. "Come on," he said after another short pause, "let's go to the living room. I want to wait another hour before we leave." He gently eased Sherlock from his lap and stood up, holding out his hand to his mate. Sherlock thought he was being moved far too soon, but he stood up off of the bed and took John's hand, standing close to him. 

"Alright," he murmured, echoing John. He walked down the hallway first, still holding onto John's hand, not wanting John to think that Sherlock had to be dragged out of the bedroom. Once in the living room he walked over and sat next to Katherine, adjusting a chair that had fallen over in her dollhouse. "There you go love,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair.

John smiled softly, taking a seat in his chair. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, knowing that it would have to cut again. He didn't want it to be; he liked it long. "Sherlock," John whispered, crooking his finger when his mate looked up, inviting him onto his lap. Sherlock smiled at John's invitation, not wanting to have to be asked. He knew it was hard for John, it was for him to though, as soon as John let go of him it was worse. He kissed Katherine's hair again and stood up, walking over to settle himself on John's lap, resting his head on his shoulder with a small sigh, making sure each breath he took was with John's scent. John hummed quietly, resting his head against Sherlock's. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, holding him close and rocking him gently. "I love you," he whispered, closing his eyes and nuzzling into Sherlock's hair. "So very much."

Sherlock hummed in response, his eyes closing as well. "I love you too, always." They sat like that for a minute before they were interrupted, Katherine climbing her way up onto Sherlock's lap and curling up there. She nuzzled close to both of them, staying silent. Sherlock smiled sadly at her, children were always so perceptive, they picked up on things. Maybe she didn't fully understand why John had to leave, but she knew it wasn't good. Just as she had accepted Sherlock back somewhat easily...she could pick up on why he'd left.

"Hey, Katty," John whispered, combing his fingers through her hair. He sighed, dropping his head to kiss the top of hers, taking a deep breath to pick up on her scent, trying to store it away somewhere like Sherlock could. Giving up, he buried his face in the crook of Sherlock's neck, sucking down his scent.

"Hey Papa," she said in response softly, nuzzling against them both. She swallowed, settling close to them both. Sherlock played with one of her curls, not saying anything. He enjoyed the quiet while it lasted, because this quiet was different from how it would be once John was gone, because then there would only be two of them being silent, instead of three.

John played with Sherlock's hair while they all sat together, trying to relax. "We should go," he said quietly after nearly an hour had passed. "I'm sure Mum's wondering where we are." Sherlock nodded as he nudged Katherine, who had started dozing off. He wondered if she was starting to get under the weather at all, as tired as she was. He felt her forehead, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary for her. He eased her off his lap gently and stood up, stretching out his long limbs. 

"Come on baby, coat," he murmured, rubbing Katherine's back. She nodded, walking over and pulling on her coat. Sherlock did the same, wrapping his new scarf around his neck.

John smiled at them, tugging on his coat. "I really do like that colour on you," he said, grabbing his wallet and keys and stuffing them into his pocket. He sent a quick text to Harry, letting her know that they would be over soon, before he grabbed one of Kat's hands and one of Sherlock's, walking with them down the stairs and out of the flat.

Sherlock couldn’t stop the small smile that pulled at his lips, adjusting the scarf on Katherine's neck. "Thank you, though I suppose we have our little colour coordinator here to thank for her excellent choice," he said with a smile as they were lead downstairs. He climbed into a cab when it was called settling Katherine over in John's lap this time, instead of his. Let him have her while he was here. 

John wrapped his arms around Katherine's middle, holding her against his chest. He leaned over against Sherlock as he held onto Kat, nuzzling against her hair. The cab ride seemed to drag on, which he was partially glad for, because he was able to spend it with his two people. When they finally pulled up in front of Harry's house, he paid the cabbie, stepping out and setting Kat down, holding his hand out for Sherlock.

Sherlock watched John and Katherine, and she nuzzled close to him. He saw an affection there that he wondered if she held the same look when he held her. He let out a breath watching them as they drove through London. He climbed out of the cab, taking hold of John's hand and giving it a squeeze. Hopefully John's mother could make John feel...well, hopefully a bit better about all of this. Maybe she could help Sherlock too. He ran his hand absently over his stomach, covering the fact that he was doing it by smoothing down his shirt.

John smiled at Sherlock, hiding his distress behind a mask of kindness and gentleness. He squeezed his mate's hand, taking Kat's in his other hand, and led them across the street, releasing them both as he reached up to ring the doorbell. He gave Sherlock a slightly nervous look, a little apprehensive about doing this, about seeing them before he left.

Sherlock reached back and took John's hand again, giving it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be okay, you have to say goodbye this time John," he murmured quietly so Katherine wouldn't hear. John knew he had more people waiting for him to come home, more incentive, at least that was how Sherlock tried to see it. He reached over with his free hand and ruffled Katherine's hair gently.

John nodded slowly, turning back to the door just as it was pulled open by his mother. "Hey, Mum," he said quietly, walking forward into her outstretched arms. "It's alright," he said quietly into her shoulder, nuzzling against her and rubbing her back. 

Mindy sniffed, ashamed that she was crying, but she figured that she had damned good reason. "No," she said, pulling back and cupping his cheek. "No, it's not okay." She stepped back inside, holding the door for them. As soon as they were all in, she gave Sherlock and Kat each a hug and then gestured them towards the living room. "Harry's in there. Kettle just boiled, so I'm going to go fetch that," she said, walking off towards the kitchen.

There went the that Mindy would be like a rock for John. Sherlock hung up his and Katherine's coat and ushered the toddler towards the living room. "Go get Aunt Harry," he said quietly. He leaned up and kissed John, "I'm going to help your mum with the tea so she doesn't have to carry all of it," he murmured, following Mindy into the kitchen. As soon as he was in there and John was out of earshot he let out a shaky breath, walking up quickly and wrapping his arms around her. It was unusual for him, but god he needed it. It couldn't be John, and he didn't have his own mother to go to. 

Mindy circled her arms around Sherlock, holding him tightly. She rubbed his back, rocking him a little. "I know," was all she said, murmured into Sherlock's shoulder.

 

Sherlock shuddered a little, biting back a small sob as he hid his face in her neck. "I don't want them to take him away again," he said quietly, shaking a bit. "You know by now...if Harry didn't tell you, you know," he said, thinking towards the growing pup in him. He sniffed a bit, his face horrifically red from embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he said, straightening up and pulling away. "He's your son...you're probably more upset, and here I am....idiot," he said, shaking his head and walking over towards the kettle.

Mindy walked over to Sherlock, turning him around and reaching up to cup his cheek, resting her other hand on his stomach. "Yes, I know. And I may be his mother, but you're his mate. I don't have his pup growing inside of me, love. Don't apologize for being upset." She patted his cheek lightly, giving him a small smile. "Let me get that," she said, nodding towards the kettle. "You go into the living room and spend some time with him."

Sherlock nodded a little, still flushed, though he refused to allow any tears to fall from his eyes. He let out a breath, then left the kitchen.

John watched Sherlock leave, standing there for a moment before walking after Kat and into the living room, smiling a little at Harry, who was sitting in one of the chairs. "Hey, sis."

Harry sat up a little as John and Katherine came into the living room, taking Katherine up onto her lap when she ran over and climbed up, wrapping her arms around her aunt. "Hey sweetie," she cooed, looking up at John. "Hey Johnny," she said, giving him a small smile, not wanting this to be a sad affair. She'd see him again, she knew it.

John let out a breath, eternally grateful that Harry wasn't crying. He walked over to the couch and sat down, leaning back against the cushions. "Where's Clara?" he asked, smiling a little at Kat, who was still hugging Harry.

Harry bounced Katherine on her knee a little, playing with some of her curls. She looked up at John and shook her head, "Where is she ever?" she said with a small smile. "Work as usual," she said with a small sigh. "I don't mind so much I suppose, when she comes back she's mine," she said. "It's not so hard for me I guess...we're not like you and Sherlock. Sometimes though...I wish we were," she said, glancing to the door where Sherlock was coming in.

Sherlock crossed the room, making a beeline for the sofa and sitting down next to John, curling his legs up to this side and leaning against him, trying to keep his face neutral. "Hello Harriet," he murmured, casting a small smile towards her.

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock, holding him close. He didn't care that a little bit of his emotion came through on his features. He was leaving in less than six days; he had every right to be upset. "You guys have a good system, though," he said quietly to Harry, his fingers making absent circles over Sherlock's side. "And if you wanted something else, you could always talk to her. I'm sure she'd listen."

Mindy walked into the living room, balancing the tea tray. She set it down on the coffee table, pouring them all mugs and handing them off. She took a seat in her armchair, beckoning Kat over to her lap. "Communication is key," she said, slipping easily into the conversation.

Katherine slid off of Harry's lap and climbed up onto her Gran's, "Hi Gran Gran," she said quietly. Harry smiled at her, then looked back at John. "No, I know. And I'm fine, really. We're fine. We love each other, god knows we do, but if she was here all the time I might go mad," she said with a smile. 

Sherlock snuggled close to John with a small sigh, nodding a little to Mindy. Communication, yes they would have that. Via email and skype hopefully. He let out a breath, resting his head on John's shoulder. He wondered about his and John's system, what it would be now. Did they even really have one before? They kept getting interrupted it seemed.

John chuckled softly at what Harry had said. "Probably a good thing she isn't here all the time then, yeah?" he teased gently. He tipped his head against Sherlock's, letting out a small sigh. He was still having trouble wrapping his head around the fact that in five and a half days, he would be gone for nearly a year and a half. The first time had been voluntary, had been something he felt like he needed to do. But this... he was missing too much. He would miss Katherine turning four, would miss Sherlock's twenty-fifth birthday, would miss Katherine turning five, would miss the baby being born.

He pushed away from the couch, setting his tea down on his way from the room. He all but ran up the stairs and into the bathroom, closing the door behind himself and dry heaving until his throat was raw and he felt like his next retch would bring up his whole stomach. He curled up on the ground, stuffing his fist in his mouth and screaming, his other arm wrapped around his waist.

Sherlock was startled as John got up quickly from the sofa and left the room, and he blinked a few times, his stomach twisting. Normally he was the one that lost it and he felt close enough to doing so again. He didn't move, feeling frozen where he was. Harry stood up, "I'll go," she said as she stood up, moving up the stairs and not even bothering to knock on the door. She came in and sat on the floor next to her brother, resting her arm on him. "It's okay Johnny...it'll be fine. You'll never have to go back you know, they can't make you after this."

John shook his head, biting harder on his knuckles until he tasted blood. He leaned away from Harry, sobbing until he felt sick again. "I shouldn't even have to be going this time," he cried, curling up, unable to stop thinking about the horrors that he had faced last time, and everything he was missing this time just so he could see them again.

 

Harry rubbed John's back still, scooting closer to him despite him moving away. "I know, I know, it's not fair, and I hate it...we all hate it," she murmured, pulling his hand away and covering the bites. "It won't be the same this time, you're not the same and you have so much more to come home to John, you've no idea..." she said, trying to soothe her brother.

John buried his face in his sister's shoulder, wanting to scream again, but he knew Harry wouldn't give him his hand back, and he wouldn't do it in the open air. "I can't... I can't focus on them, though," he whimpered. "What if I come back and Kat changed her favorite color again, and suddenly being tucked in is 'for babies'? What if something goes wrong with the pregnancy and I'm not here, or I come back and my baby cries when I hold it because it doesn't know my voice? What if I d--" He choked on his words, a sob ripping out of him. What if I die?

Harry wrapped her arms around John, holding him carefully. "Sherlock will likely categorize everything for you, tell you the changes as they happen, hell he'd probably predict them," she said, rocking him gently. "That baby will love you, and nothing is going to go wrong because we will be here to make sure that Sherlock and them is taken care of," she said, "And finally, don't you dare even think that John, or so help me I will kill you myself," she said, voice stern. 

John bit his tongue to hold in his next sob, nodding a little, because it felt good to be yelled at as opposed to half-supporting another crying person. He let himself cry until all of his tears were spent, not wanting to risk another breakdown anytime soon. He slowly leaned up, wiping at his cheeks and letting out a shaky breath. "Sorry," he murmured, still just sitting there, not trusting himself on his feet yet.

Harry shook her head, "Don't apologize you idiot," she said, voice still firm since it seemed to help. "You have every right to be upset, but you can't...you can't lose it over there John,” she said. "You lose it over there, and you lose everything here," she said, "You know that, and we can't lose you either. Not mum and me, not Sherlock and Katherine, and not that small pup of yours on the way." 

John shook his head, not knowing what to say. "It's all routine over there, Harry," he said quietly, pushing unsteadily to his feet. "The only thing I'm going to lose is time." He held a hand out for his sister. "We should get back downstairs." He didn't want to talk about the desert. He had managed not to talk about it for over three years, and he didn't want to start now.

Downstairs, Sherlock stayed curled up on the sofa, keeping his face neutral so as to not upset Katherine, who was still sitting quietly on Mindy's lap.

Mindy bounced Katherine on her knees, tickling her sides a little. She looked over at Sherlock, frowning at how blank he was. "Katty, go sit on your Daddy's lap," she whispered, standing and walking back towards the guest room. She returned a short while later with a small bag, sitting beside Sherlock. "I've got something for you."

Sherlock wasn't even paying attention when he felt Katherine climb up onto his lap and place a small kiss on his cheek. He blinked a few times, looking down at her and putting a small smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around her. The smile was automatic, not wanting to upset Katherine. He looked up when Mindy came back in, looking at her when she sat in John's spot with a bag. "What is it?" he asked quietly, Katherine eyeing the bag as well.

Mindy smiled, running her fingers through Kat's hair. "Okay, I have three somethings for you," she corrected, slowly pulling at the zipper on the bag. "Firstly, this." She held up a small spray bottle, half the size of a bottle of perfume. "It holds in scent on an article of clothing. Trust me, spray this on one of his jumpers, and it'll smell like him for a decade." She reached into the bag, pulling out a small bracelet. "This is for Miss Katty," she said quietly, slipping it over her granddaughter's wrist. "It was Nicole's," she said quietly, sighing as she reached into the bag one last time. She smiled at the leather book that she pulled out, handing it delicately over to Sherlock. "John's journal from when he was a boy. You read it when you miss him," she murmured, squeezing Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock took the small bottle, holding it as if it was a treasure, which it was. He would get a swatch of cloth from his clothes and one of Katherine's, and send it with John. When the baby came, he would send one from one of the onesies. "Thank you..." he breathed, watching her put the bracelet on Katherine's wrist, listening to Katherine thank her Grandmother. When he saw the small book he took it, running his hand down the cover. "I'll finish it within the first week...have it memorized by the third one," he murmured, wishing there was more. "Thank you," he said again.  
Mindy shook her head, smiling softly as Kat spun the bracelet. "You don't thank me," she said softly, cupping Sherlock's cheek and patting it gently. "That bottle is a home remedy, and not many people know about it, so don't go telling people about it."

Sherlock looked down at the bottle again, nodding a little as he shifted Katherine on his lap so he could lean over and hug Mindy. He let out a breath, holding Katherine close and nuzzling her hair. He looked at Mindy, thinking. "When it comes time to...for it to come." he said quietly, looking down at his stomach. "I want you there...if John can't be," he said quietly. The only way John would be there is if he was sent home early, and that meant him getting hurt. And he didn't want that again. "I don't have a mother to ask..." he said quietly.

Mindy reached up and combed through Sherlock's hair, trying to tame some of his curls. "Yes you do. You have me, and you'll always have me." She gave him a warm smile, meaning her words with everything that she had. "Of course I'll be there," she said, taking Kat's hand and playing with her fingers while she looked levelly at Sherlock. 

Sherlock leaned into her touch and closed his eyes, nodding his head. He bit his lip a little, then smiled, "Thank you," he said softly. He looked over towards the door when John came back into the living room, lead in by Harry who smiled and beckoned Katherine to her. Sherlock stood, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around him. "We'll be okay," he said quietly, meaning all of them, him and John, him and Katherine and the pup, all of them. They'd all be fine, and this would pass. He pulled away, showing the bottle. "The pup'll know your scent," he whispered, and I'll send you his...and mine. And I'll have yours...and when you get back, he'll know you," he said quietly.

John nearly started sobbing again, but thankfully he was fresh out of tears. He pulled Sherlock back into his arms, holding him close, his hands gripping the suit jacket and holding fiercely to it. "I love you," he whispered, nuzzling against Sherlock's neck and inhaling his scent, glad that he didn't have to memorise it. 

Sherlock let out a breath, scenting John's neck as well. He ran his hand up John's back and then back down. "And I you, always," he whispered softly. He squeezed John once more, pulling away just slightly. He held John's face in his hands and moved over to the sofa again, Mindy having gotten up and moved back to her armchair. He sat down and pulled John onto the sofa with him, handing him his tea once more and taking up his own, settling next to John with his head on his shoulder.

John settled in beside Sherlock, ignoring his tea, which had gone cold anyway. "Thanks, Mum," he said quietly, knowing that the spray had come from her. He glanced at the coffee table, seeing a leather booklet with his initials stamped on the cover. He groaned, turning back to his mum. "Are you trying to embarrass me to death?"

Mindy chuckled, folding her hands in her lap. "You know you don't mind. It's not like I haven't read all of it anyway," she teased, then held up her hands at John's horrified look. "I haven't; I'm just joking. Calm down, child."

Sherlock smiled, looking back at the book. "I'm just going to add the information to your wing." he murmured softly, knowing that John knew he was talking about his mind palace. "What is it you don't want known?" he murmured. "Old crushes? Girlfriends? Boyfriends?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"What's crush Daddy?" Katherine asked suddenly, looking at them. "Papa what's crush? Did Papa have crushes? They in the book?" She asked, apparently she'd had enough of being quiet.

John scoffed at Sherlock's question. "Oh, loads. You know me, total lady's man." He winked at Sherlock, turning to Kat. It felt good to be smiling again. "It's when you like someone a lot, but you don't tell them," he explained, turning back to Sherlock to nuzzle against Sherlock's neck. "Just skip over all of April 2001, alright?" It had been a hard month for him, having lost Harry, and he had considered suicide multiple times. "Probably not how you want to be thinking of me when I'm gone."

Sherlock let out a breath, then nodded a little. He was able to do the math quick enough in his head and knew what had happened. He probably would read it eventually, if he ran out of things perhaps. He sighed, looking down at Katherine as she seemed to consider what John explained to her. "Oh...I has one of those," she said, looking up at them both. 

John chuckled, reaching down to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Kat's ear. "Really now?" he asked, resting his hand on Sherlock's leg again, staying as tucked up against him as he could. "And who do you have a crush on?" he asked, whispering so that it seemed like a secret.

Katherine covered her mouth, whispering in response, "Said that...that don't tell what crushes are.." she said quietly, glancing over at Gran and Harry, who were smiling at them. She let out a breath. "Ah'like Avery...he pulls boys' hair...but s'nice to me." she said quietly. "Plays house at daycare," she said. "No other boys play that game." She informed them, as if imparting upon them the main reason for liking him.

John glanced over at Sherlock, raising his eyebrows, his lips curled up his a humorous smile. "Well, so long as he's nice," John said, ruffling her hair. He leaned more against Sherlock closing his eyes as he rested his head on his shoulder. "Thank god she's not a teenager yet," he muttered so that only he could hear.

Sherlock couldn't help the grin that pulled at his mouth when Katherine explained about her 'crush'. He actually laughed a little at John's remark. "Yet, but of course you'll be around for that, don't even think about trying to get out of it," he murmured, trying to picture that, their Katherine, a teenager. She would be five when John got back, and they would have eight more years before that hit. 

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," John teased, laughing a little. He was actually highly curious to see what Kat would be like as a teenager. If she was a typical girl, lord knew she would be going to John for all sorts of advice, but if she was anything like Sherlock--and she was everything like Sherlock--then he was interested to see what would happen.

\---------------------------------------------------------  
They ended up staying for lunch, and John managed to eat half of the toasted chicken sandwiches his mum made, plus a small bit of the salad he and Sherlock had decided to split. After they ate, they said goodbye, John giving Harry and Mindy long hugs, because he had always been a cautious man. He waved goodbye and said that he loved them, and then led Sherlock and Katherine onto the street, waving his hand to flag down a cab.

Sherlock held onto Katherine’s hand as john said his goodbyes, hugging Mindy and Harry both as they left and followed John out of the flat, promising to keep in touch, and visit. He climbed into the cab and settled down next to John. He sighed, "Just another chapter, after this...it's just us," he mumbled quietly, nuzzling against John's jaw lightly. 

"Just us," John agreed, though 'us' was going to be one more person than he knew now. He stared blankly out the window. "What do you want to do tomorrow?" he asked softly, reaching out for Sherlock's hand and linking their fingers together.

Sherlock sighed, nodding a little as he thought. "Hmm...we should go out, all of us," he murmured, giving Katherine a small squeeze. "She'll be starting school next term since she'll be five," he said softly. "Why don't we look at a couple schools, and get some lunch, maybe go to a park," he said, kissing John's jaw. "That way you'll know where she'll be...and I'll send you reports and grades," he said, smiling a little. "I won't allow you to miss a thing." Sherlock knew full well that he would document everything. 

John made a small noise. School. His baby girl was going to school, and he was going to miss it. He wasn't going to be there to give her a hug and a kiss and embarrass her on her first day. He couldn't pack and repack her rucksack to make sure she had everything. He wouldn't be able to pick her up after her first day and listen to all of her grand adventures. "Yeah, alright," he said quietly, trying for a smile but not entirely sure if he managed a proper one. 

Sherlock squeezed his hand, he knew it was hard for him, and god he wanted John there for it, but it seemed he would have to settle for the next best thing, and that was for John to know everything as it happened. Katherine turned to look at them, "I starting school?" she asked, tilting her head a little. "But go to daycare and...and Daddy teaches me stuff, and Papa...why have go to school?" she asked, not seeming overly pleased with the idea. 

Sherlock sighed, "Because you have to babe, school is where we go when we're almost five, and you're almost four now, but next school year you'll turn five," he tried to explain.

John smiled a little, taking Kat's hand. "Your Daddy's really smart, but he can't teach you everything," he explained gently. "Everyone goes to school, sweetie. I did, so did Daddy. You'll love it, I promise." He squeezed her hand, leaning heavily against Sherlock for the remainder of the cab ride. When they pulled up in front of the flat, he paid the fare and then slid out of the cab, waiting for his mate and his daughter on the pavement.

Sherlock nodded at John's words, Katherine would love school, at least he hoped so. He himself had found it difficult, but Katherine was like John in that she was very good with emotions, and perceptions of them. He carried Katherine out of the cab, bouncing her a bit. "You are getting big, won't be able to carry you before too long though," he murmured, setting her down and taking John's hand as they went up to the flat, Katherine racing up the steps ahead of them.

John squeezed Sherlock's hand as they walked up the steps. He unlocked the door, watching Katherine bound ahead of them up the stairs. He led Sherlock along behind him, helping him out of his coat when they reached the top of the stairs. "Come here," he said quietly, tugging him over to the couch. He laid down across it on his back, pulling Sherlock down until he was lying on top of him. He wrapped his arms around his mate, kissing the top of his head before settling back and closing his eyes. "Much better," he murmured quietly.

Sherlock settled onto John naturally, feeling like he was sliding into place. He sighed, resting his head on John's chest, "Mm...much better indeed," he murmured softly. "This will go away, this problem...then everything is okay," he murmured, taking a breath. "I'll have your scent, you'll have all of ours," he murmured, nuzzling close to John. "And you'll be so much safer now...hospital." he reminded himself, comforted by the knowledge.

John again felt a stab of guilt in his chest, knowing that he wouldn't always be at the hospital. He would come home with less scars, because he wouldn't be going out on every mission, but he would probably have bigger scars, deeper wounds, because he'd be out on the harder missions, the deadlier ones. His stomach clenched, thinking about going through the fifteen months without Stephen, without all of the people that he knew. He shook his head, not liking lying to Sherlock.

Sherlock felt a slight shift under him, John tensing slightly. He ran a hand up John's side, rubbing down soothingly. "Shh...it's okay," he said quietly. "It'll be okay, we'll be fine, you'll be fine. And you'll come home soon and it will be okay,” he said softly, trying to make peace with it and convince himself. Because John was right, Sherlock had to be present and there to take care of Katherine and the Pup, and himself.

John sucked in a breath, looking down to lock eyes with Sherlock. "I'm a Captain," he said quietly, unable to keep lying to his mate. He just couldn't do it, not when it was killing him so much. Not when the last time Sherlock had kept something big from him, John had thought he had died. "I'm getting an infantry team. They don't assign you a team if you're not going out," he murmured, tightening his hold on Sherlock, his eyes remaining unwavering. 

Sherlock didn't move, taking a moment to process what John just said, as if he'd missed it, misunderstood. "I...but you said...John..." he said, slowly, finally understanding what he was saying. "You lied," he said softly, feeling his stomach drop, knowing what that meant. "John, you...you said..." he shook his head, feeling almost sick again, maybe he would be sick, he threw up all the time now anyway. He tried to push himself up, but John's arms still held him. "You lied!" he said, his breath speeding up a little, not wanting to cry, he wouldn't. He'd done that enough, it wasn't fair. Stupid hormones…stupid…emotions.

John felt Sherlock's rightful accusation like a stab wound. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I won't be going out often, rarely, even. Just when they need me." He furrowed his brow, biting his lip as he held Sherlock closer, reaching up to comb through his hair. "I'll probably only be going out five or six times total, just..." just when it's dangerous. "Just when they need some help." 

Sherlock shook, still trying to pull away though it was difficult. Part of him wanted to stay curled up with John and be comforted, the other wanted to smack him and shout and curl away in anger. "When they need your help I know it's bad!" he said, a sob coming from him, followed by a growl of annoyance, everything clashing in him at once. "You lied! It's not fair, they can't do this!" he said sharply.

John sat up quickly, holding Sherlock tightly against himself. "Shh," he murmured, holding him tighter when he tried to pull away again. "You can be mad at me later when your daughter's asleep. Stop yelling in front of her," he said quietly, casting a quick, concerned glance toward Katherine.

Sherlock looked over at Katherine, who had come back downstairs apparently and was looking at them with a scared expression. He let out a breath, and stopped struggling so much. He swallowed, "Well let go of me then, and I won't have to do anything in front of her," he hissed quietly into John's ear. He huffed a breath, trying to work John's hand off him. "Feeling a bit sick again Katty, it's okay, having a baby inside your tummy makes you feel funny sometimes," he explained to his daughter, smoothing his face over. He looked at John, eyes narrowing slightly, "Let me up, I want to go to the bathroom, unless you feel like cleaning up sick," he muttered.

John released Sherlock, watching him walk away. He felt like crying again, wondering if it would have been better to have kept it a secret. But, no. Secrets weren't good between them. He didn't think he would ever fully forgive Sherlock for the last secret the Omega had kept, and he didn't think Sherlock would have ever forgiven him this, either. He curled up in the corner of the sofa, smiling a little at Katty and the dolls she was holding. "The Doctor?" he asked, beckoning her over. "Is he going to join some of the other dolls in your house?"

Katherine nodded, looking at the bow-tied clad man with a fez in her hand. "Yes." she said, "He helps." she said quietly, sitting down in front of her doll house and setting him inside. "Keeps everybody safe," she said, adjusting some of the furniture inside the house. John nodded, tucking his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, resting his chin on top so that he could watch Katherine.

Katherine stood up, leaving her dolls and climbing onto the sofa with John. "Don't be sad Papa," she said quietly, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Going be okay," she said. She sniffed once, "Daddy's sick...needs doctor," she said, gently poking John’s chest.

John put his arms around Kat. "I'm just worried about him. I don't know if I can help him." He sighed lightly, kissing her forehead. "Do you want me to try?" When she nodded, John stood up, ushering her back towards her dolls and walking into the bedroom. He closed the door behind him, but didn't step any further inside. "Sherlock?" he whispered hesitantly.

Sherlock didn't move from where he was on the bed, still curled up around John's pillow. The hesitation in John's voice hurt him, as if he was afraid of Sherlock. "You were going to go to that place...letting me pretend everything was okay..." he said quietly. "As okay as it could be. And what would have happened if I got a letter, or if someone came to our door...and all I could think was that my mate, my John, wasn't supposed to be in combat," he said quietly, his voice flat, eyes rimmed red from the tears he'd cried away into the pillow.

John choked on a small sob, pushing it down so that he could talk. "You had enough to worry about. Too much to worry about. Taking care of Kat, being pregnant, and taking care of both of them when this one comes. I didn't want you worrying about me as well, when I can worry about myself just as well." He took a step forward but paused, not sure if Sherlock wanted his comfort or not.

Sherlock curled more into John's pillow, which smelled more like himself now than it did John, much to his dismay, he hadn't sprayed it yet. "I worry about you...when you so much as go to work, or buy milk," he said flatly, I would worry even if you were in hospitals over there but now...they'll only call you back when it's the worst, and you...you barely came back last time," he said, voice breaking.

"I'm coming back, Sherlock. I promise you, I'm coming back." John wanted so badly to hold his mate, to rock him and comfort him, to promise him that everything was going to be okay. "This doesn't change anything. I'll still be able to Skype with you, and write to you, and email you, and miss the hell out of you." He finally walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, keeping distance in case Sherlock didn't want him close. "It just means that I'll be running a team, and sometimes I'll have to go out with them."

A sob bubbled up out of Sherlock, who rolled over quickly and wrapped his arms around John's waist. "Fake your death here...like me, we'll all just leave, never have to deal with any of them again," he said, almost frantically, feeling another fit of emotion welling up that he couldn't stomach, damn hormones, they'd been out of sync enough before he was pregnant. "We'll go to America or something, please!" he begged, shaking again.

John jumped a little at Sherlock's sudden movement, but he quickly rested a hand in his hair, combing through it gently. "No, love," he whispered sadly, pulling Sherlock up and settling him onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around his Omega, rocking them gently. "We both have lives here. We can't do that," he murmured, pressing his lips to Sherlock's forehead.

Sherlock shook his head, "No...no my life is you, and I can have a life anywhere where you are, you and Katherine both," he said, biting back another sob. "Please...please don't leave us, I want you here, safe." He knew what he was saying wasn't fair and was probably hurting John. It hurt him too, but he couldn't stop the words. He didn't believe in a god to beg to, so he begged to the only thing he'd ever really worshiped. "I don't want you to go, please...pleasepleaseplease..."

John didn't notice the tears that were pouring down his face. All he felt was the gaping ache that was consuming him as he clung tighter to Sherlock, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He sobbed, and the sound was more wounded than anything, because he knew it was his fault that Sherlock was begging, his fault that Sherlock was so upset. "I'm so sorry," he cried, clinging tighter to his mate as the guilty ache ripped through him.

Sherlock felt the bruises on his body ache as John squeezed him. He hated this, everything about it. He huffed out a shaky breath, tilting his head up to look at John. "You...you are coming back to me John Watson," he ordered firmly. "You are not...going to stay in that place, you are coming home to us all, do you understand me?" he asked, sitting up and straddling John's lap and taking his tear streaked face in his hands.

John set his hands on Sherlock's waist, staring solidly into his eyes. He didn't say that he could come home in a pine box, and it would still count as coming home. He just nodded. "I will. Sherlock, I'm coming home, I promise."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly at John, seeing the small flicker in his eyes. He growled a little, leaning forward and biting at John's jaw firmly, pulling back to look at him. "You are coming home, in person and alive!" he snapped quietly so Katherine wouldn't hear it. "So help me John, don't go where I can't follow, because I assure you, if such a place did exist, and I will find you," he threatened.

John sucked in a sharp breath at the bite on his jaw. He wrapped his fingers in Sherlock's dark curls, pulling them sharply. "You are not, and I mean not following me if I... if I die." He knew it was a possibility, but, damn it. "You have a family, we have a family, and if I don't come back, you need to take care of them."

Sherlock winced as John yanked on his hair, glaring back at him. "Well it's not as if you'd be around to stop me," he muttered without thinking. He knew Katherine would still need him, and the pup...but his life without John, without John he wouldn't have life in the first place. "So I guess you'd better make sure you come back John," he said softly, leaning forward and crushing his mouth against the Alpha's so he didn't hear him complain.

John growled against Sherlock's lips, rolling them over and pinning him against the mattress. "I am coming back," he said, pulling back. "And you are not going to die if I do. I don't give a damned about anything else. If I die, I want to be cremated, and I want you to watch after our damned kids."

Sherlock whimpered from surprise at being pinned. He glared at John, "Don't you dare tell me how you want to be buried, I'm not burying you!" he snapped, nipping at John's jaw again in the same spot. They'd never argued this much before, and it surprised Sherlock, but he tried to stand his ground against the Alpha, despite being pinned as he was. 

"Then I'll write it down and have them mail it back to you," John said, sitting firmer on Sherlock when the Omega started squirming. "Stop fighting me and just listen, damn it. I'm being sensible. I don't want to leave you and the pups with nothing."

"No!" he snapped, not wanting to listen. He didn't want to listen to anything John had to say about him dying. "You're not going to die!" he said, trying to keep his voice firm, he wanted to be angry dammit. He was tired of being sad about it, and as he couldn't be happy about this situation, by god he would be angry. "You leave us and we will have nothing!" 

"You will have two children who love you; a daughter who reminded me too damned much of you for two years, and with any luck, a son who, lord knows, you're going to name Hamish against my wishes. And they are both going to have a loving father, and so many other wonderful people in their lives." John sagged a little, trying not to think about life without them.

Sherlock let out an almost pained whine, knowing that he probably couldn't bring himself to leave them both. "You're damned right I'm naming him Hamish," he said, letting out a breath. "I don't...I can't raise them without you...don't make me..." he begged softly, looking up pleadingly at John.

John rolled off of Sherlock, folding his legs underneath himself and putting his head in his hands, all of his anger gone. "I won't try to. You know I won't. But Sherlock, if, if I die, please, please don't... don't leave them."

Sherlock curled up on his side, almost wishing they were still fighting. There was silence for a few minutes before he rolled onto his side, facing John. He reached out and took his hand, frowning a small bit. "I w-won't...I just...I don't want to do it alone..." he said quietly. "I...you would wait though...wouldn't you?" he asked finally, "If there was somewhere else...you would wait...for me?" he asked.

John smiled a little sadly, bringing Sherlock fingers up to his lips and kissing them. "Sherlock Holmes, I would wait a thousand years if I was waiting for you," he whispered, leaning down so that he could kiss Sherlock's forehead, and then his cheek. "You are my love, and I will always wait if I have to do anything first."

Sherlock blinked a couple times, a tear breaking out past his eyes. He nodded, taking John's hand and holding it close against his face. "Good...just don't do it first," he murmured quietly. "I'm sorry for dying before, and I'll never do it again I promise...promisepromisepromise," he breathed, relaxing a little.

John kissed the tear away, nodding slowly at Sherlock's words. "Come here," he whispered, sitting up and pulling Sherlock with him. He scooted back against the headboard, leaning his shoulders against it and lifting Sherlock into his lap. "It's alright. Everything's going to be alright."

Sherlock hummed, allowing himself to be pulled up into John's lap. He settled close against him with a sigh, nodding silently. "I know...I know it will," he murmured quietly with a small sigh. He closed his eyes, resting against him. "I will miss you, but it will be okay, you'll come back," he murmured softly. "You will..." he said again. He already felt exhausted, even though they hadn't really done anything all day. Tomorrow they would go look at schools for Katherine, but for now, he would nap, which he did, leaning up against John.

John held onto Sherlock tightly, possessively, while the Omega napped, tucking Sherlock's head under his chin. "I don't want to leave you," he whispered into the empty room, closing his eyes and wishing it was that easy for himself to fall asleep.

Sherlock's head was resting on John's shoulder as he slept, his face pinched somewhat. A little bit later Katherine tip toed into the room and crawled up onto the bed as well. She situated herself next to John and snuggled up next to him. "D-did Papa help Daddy?" she whispered drowsily. "Make Daddy feel better...a'cause Papa's coming back..." she said quietly. 

John smiled, wrapping his arm around Kat and holding her against himself. "Yeah, I think I made Daddy feel better. A little bit, at least," he said quietly, rubbing Kat's arm. "You know I love you, baby, right? And that I'm so proud of you."

Katherine hummed, snuggling close to John. "I know… love you Papa, lots and lots...gonna miss you," she said quietly. "But, Daddy said...learn to write good...in school, and...and going to write letters to Papa," She said quietly, mentioning what Daddy told her when he helped her get dressed. "Gonna see Papa on...on the Skype...and gonna be back." She wasn’t worried about it, only worried about her Daddy being sad.

"That's right. And then I'll come back and your Daddy won't be sad. Just like me when Daddy came back," John promised, combing through Kat's hair as she snuggled close to his body, Sherlock still asleep in his arms.

Katherine smiled, looking up at John. "I'll make Daddy happy...while Papa's gone. Then s'your job again," she offered with a small sigh, reaching over and putting her hand in one of Sherlock's open ones. Sherlock hummed a little in his sleep, his fingers closing automatically around the small hand, holding it gently.

John smiled sadly, tilting Kat's chin up so that he could meet her eyes. "You are Papa's brave, strong girl, you know that? And I am going to miss you so much." He leaned down, kissing her forehead and closing his eyes, just breathing in her scent for a moment. He set his hand over hers and Sherlock's, so that they were all connected. "I love you, baby," he murmured, nuzzling into her hair.

"You my brave Papa," she said in reply, closing her eyes when he nuzzled into her hair. She hummed a little, "Mmlove you too Papa." she said quietly. "Gonna miss you...but...I can draw pictures, so...so you don't miss nothing." John was all out of tears, which was good, because Kat's words very nearly made him cry. He kissed the top of her head, asking her to crawl over to his side of the bed. Then he laid down, shifting Sherlock so that he was beside him, and he wrapped his free arm around Kat, nuzzling close to her. 

"You can send me as many pictures as you want, sweetheart."

Katherine smiled, moving out over to Papa's side of the bed, cuddling close to him. "I'm going to...lots and lots of pictures," She whispered, as if it was their secret, and not wanting to wake Sherlock up. "And...and you can ask me what to draw....and I'll colour them."

John smiled, rubbing Kat's back. He could tell she was tired, and he was trying to soothe her to sleep. "You can draw me whatever you like. Try new things," he whispered, turning his head to watch Sherlock for a moment before paying attention to Kat again, watching her eyelids droop.

Katherine blinked slowly, humming a little. "Mhm...dwaw new t'ings." she mumbled quietly, trying to keep her eyes open. "T'mowow...gonna go park? 'nd look at....ss...schools," she said, humming again as her eyelids drooped shut finally, leaning against her Papa and breathing steadily.

John made a small noise, leaning back against the pillows for a moment, waiting for Kat to officially fall asleep before he slipped out of bed, walking out into the living room and gathering up all of the knives Sherlock had hidden when Moriarty had been affecting his nightmares. He sat down in his chair, turning to face the yellow smiley on the wall. After flicking out the blade, he threw the first knife, missing, but surprised to see that he was close.

Sherlock dozed for a little while longer before he woke up finally to hearing a noise. He blinked his eyes open a few times, seeing Katherine asleep on the bed across from him. He heard the noise again and rolled out of the bed, wandering down the hall and into the living room, seeing the knives sticking out of the wall, and the knife holes from where others had been pried out, most of the holes on the smiley face on the wall. He cleared his throat, announcing himself so as to not startle John.

"I heard you," John said quietly, throwing another knife and hitting the right eye dead center. "Did I wake you?" he asked, turning his head to look at Sherlock, his brow furrowed a little in concern.

Sherlock let out a breath, looking at John, watching him throw the blade and hit it dead on. "Mrs. Hudson won't be pleased," he murmured, walking into the living room. "You did, but I don't mind. It's time with you," he said softly, looking at John steadily. He didn't feel sad, or angry, or anything really, he felt quiet...like water after a storm. "You're still good," he murmured.

John nodded slowly, not exactly sure how he felt at the moment. Numb was a good word he supposed. "I missed the first five," he said quietly, looking back at the smiley. He flicked his last knife, watching it sink right in beside the other. "But I haven't missed since." He looked up at Sherlock, gesturing him over. He just wanted to hold him, scent him, feel his warmth before it was gone from him.

Sherlock looked the knives. "You were just out of practise," he said quietly, walking over and instantly wrapping his arms around John's middle, resting his head on John's shoulder and taking a deep breath. "You throw and shoot straight if you ever have to...pretend each one of them his him and don't miss," he said quietly, nuzzling at John's jaw.

John ran his fingers over Sherlock's side, rubbing slow circles with the pads of his fingers. "I won't miss. And every one of them is going to hold his face. He's going to die a thousand times over in that desert, if that's what it takes," he said quietly, already feeling the anger coming on, the emotions that he had repressed since Sherlock's "death." They were good, though. They would get him through this.

Sherlock hummed, leaning into John as he nodded. "I hope that you don't have to go out enough for him to die a thousand times. Hopefully only a few...none would be better." He sighed, backing John up into his chair and having him sit before climbing up into his lap. "I love you, and I will wait for you, and you'll come back to all three of us," he said quietly.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, holding him in place and nuzzling against his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. "I know you will. And I'll be back, I promise." His grip tightened around Sherlock, his hands closing into fists on his shirt. "I'll come home," he whispered, his voice muffled by Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock nodded, "I know, I know you'll keep your promise." he said softly. "And you will come home sooner than I did, at least I know where you are, and that you're coming back." His hand moved to lift John's and rest it on his stomach. "Hamish isn't a horrible name," he murmured quietly with a small smile. "I like it, Hamish Michael Holmes....Hamish Michael Watson?" he mused. "Holmes-Watson?"

John still hated the name, but it sounded good when Sherlock said it like that, his voice quiet and a little drowsy. He smiled a little, rubbing his thumb over Sherlock's stomach, aching for him to already be fully pregnant so that he could be here. "I like Watson with that one," he murmured, kissing Sherlock's lips lightly.

Sherlock hummed as he looked down at John's hand. "I like it too...we can decide something different for the middle name if you want.” He smiled softly despite how this still hurt, but he knew they would have the rest of their lives. "I think it's a boy...I want him to be, and I think he will be."

"I like Michael," John said quietly, nuzzling against Sherlock before kissing him softly again. "I hope he is a boy as we're thinking. And I hope he has blond hair and your beautiful eyes. I don't want a carbon copy of me running around. One John Watson is plenty," he teased, worrying Sherlock's lower lip between his teeth.

Sherlock hummed again, smiling a little. "I wish there was more than one, that way I could keep you here," he said quietly. "I want to give you everything you want...but I have a good feeling about him," he murmured softly. "And he won't even be that old when you come back...seven months, it's not too bad. "You won't be missing as much as I did. You'll get all the firsts...words, steps, hair trim. Probably will just miss the first couple teeth, but those aren't too big of milestones." 

John didn't reply, not wanting to get upset again or to upset Sherlock. He simply held Sherlock closer, tucking his head under his chin, and rocked him slowly. He didn't care about firsts--he wanted to be here for everything, for Sherlock. He would miss the entire pregnancy and all that it brought, and he would miss the birth. That was what he cared about.

Sherlock let out a breath, looking down and nodding a bit. He wanted to make him feel a little better at least, but it seemed he wouldn't be able to do that. "I know," he said quietly, resting John's hand on his stomach. This whole baby thing...it was just upsetting him. "What...what if we wait?" he asked quietly, not looking at John. "We can...always just...try again," he said quietly, hating what he was implying. He didn't want to, but he didn't want this to hurt John, he didn't want to miss everything, so who said he had to miss anything? But still...what that would entail, Sherlock almost wanted to cry at just the thought.

John held Sherlock tighter, his hand pressed protectively over his stomach. "No," he said firmly. "Absolutely not. Sherlock, why would you...?" He sighed, dropping his forehead to Sherlock's shoulder. "You're keeping him. We're keeping him. Alright?"

A small sob broke from Sherlock, though it was partly relief, as if some part of himself that he didn't know about thought John would ask him to do it. A stupid thought, and he nodded, covering his face, embarrassed by how fucking emotional he was being. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry, I don't know why I...I just wish we could pause all of this...I don't want you to miss anything, and I'll try so hard...record it all, document every detail in my head and elsewhere to recite to you." 

"Oh, love," John murmured, wrapping his arms tighter around Sherlock, holding him close to his chest. "Don't feel so bad, sweetheart, alright? It's not your fault, it's not my fault, and I know you'll do a good job. And you'll have help, and you won't be alone. Okay? Look at me, Sherlock." He reached out, cupping Sherlock's cheek and tilting his head so that their eyes met. "Everything will be okay."

Sherlock moved his hands from his face when John's hand cupped his cheek and he looked up at him a moment later, his eyes a bit red. He nodded. It would be okay. John would come back; he'd have to believe that. And Mindy was kind and loving, she would be the next best person he could have there if he couldn't have John. "I know," he said quietly, looking down towards his stomach, John's arms wrapped around him. "I know..." he repeated softly.

John held Sherlock for the rest of the morning, rocking him slowly and periodically kissing his forehead. "You should go wake up our daughter. I'll start a late lunch," he murmured, easing Sherlock off of his lap. He walked over to the wall and pulled out the knives, tucking them away into a safe spot out of Kat's reach before wandering into the kitchen to start making some fried egg sandwiches, bacon, and hash browns.

Sherlock had retreated into his head a bit, organizing the scattered thoughts and memories as John held him. He blinked a few times as he was moved, nodding mechanically and moving back into the bedroom to gently wake up Katherine. She yawned, rubbing her eyes sleepily and held up her arms to be picked up. Sherlock complied, hearing her breathe through a now stuffed up nose. He sighed, a cold it was then, just what they needed. He carried her back into the kitchen, sitting her in her seat before taking his.

John dished up the food onto three plates and setting them on the table. He poured them all milk, and then sat at the table beside Sherlock, smiling softly over at him and then Katherine. "Morning, Katty. How did you sleep?"

Katherine yawned again, rubbing at one of her eyes. "G'morning Papa," she said drowsily, sniffing a little through her stuffy nose. "Mmsleepgood," she said with a sleepy nod. Sherlock smiled at her, reaching over and feeling her forehead. She felt normal, probably wouldn't hit her till later, if at all. "Still want to go look at schools baby?" he asked quietly. She perked up a small bit, then nodded, pulling her plate a little closer to herself.

Shit. John had forgotten about looking at schools. He sighed, picking up a strip of bacon and munching on it. Part of him didn't want to go anywhere, but he knew how important this was, and he knew that he needed to do it. "I'm glad you slept good, sweetheart," he said with a smile, reaching for his milk and sipping it.

Katherine smiled, not noticing the slight change in John, Sherlock however saw it immediately and nudged John's foot gently with his own, trying to comfort him without letting Katherine know that there was anything else wrong. He started eating his food, despite not wanting to at all, he wasn't eating for himself anymore and he wouldn't dare refuse food with John looking at him. He ate the entire plate, feeling almost sick by the time he'd finished, but he almost always felt sick anyway. "I've had my eye on a couple different schools here in the city, good curriculum and class size. And I'm fairly certain that most of their teachers aren't complete idiots so that's good." 

John chuckled, picking up his fried egg sandwich and starting on it. Of course Sherlock would have already looked into schools, would have already done essentially a background check on the teachers. "Alright, we'll stop by them first then," he said, putting on a smile and a worry-free face for Kat.

Sherlock nodded, seeing right past John's face. He sighed softly, reaching over and giving John's hand a squeeze. "I think Katty and you will both like them," he said, smiling over at her, and then John. We'll be okay, John...I promise, he thought, trying to convey the thought with his gaze, giving another reassuring squeeze.

John squeezed Sherlock's hand back, smiling over at him. I know you will, he thought back. He wasn't sure about himself, but he was going to ensure the safety of Sherlock and Katherine, and the baby to come. "I'm sure we will. Maybe not Kat so much, seeing as it means actually having to go to school," he said, winning across the table at her.

Katherine stuck out her tongue a little, grinning at John with a mouthful of bacon. "I want go to school!" she said, feet swinging a little. 

"Katherine, swallow your food, you'll choke," he said with a soft smile, looking at her. She nodded, swallowing her food and looking at John. 

"I want go to school Papa," she said, licking her lips. 

John smiled, knowing already how much he was going to miss. He hated it. "I know you do. You have to get better at your drawings and maybe learn how to spell so that you can send me pictures with words." It took a lot of effort not to start crying, or to choke on the words, but somehow he managed.

Katherine smiled more at the thought, thinking already about things she'd draw for him. "Know how spell some things," she offered. "Like Papa and Daddy and Kat and cat and...dog and hat and case..." she listed off a few other short words, letting out a breath before grinning. "Daddy taught me how spell murder too!" she said, causing Sherlock to go a little red. Katherine had made another 'scene' in her doll house and had asked. Sherlock didn't think she'd retain the word when he'd spelled it once. That had been three weeks ago...so much for her forgetting that.

John rolled his eyes, hitting Sherlock gently on his thigh under the table. "You would," he muttered under his breath, picking up his glass of milk and finishing it off before he leaned back in his seat. Only half of his hash browns were left and a strip of bacon. He figured that that was fairly good. "As soon as you finish, Katty, we can all get dressed and then head out." Sherlock still had to call the schools to let them know that they were dropping by, but that was a minor detail.

Sherlock looked at John, "That was weeks ago," he defended, "And I spelled it once, I didn't think she'd recall it," he said, looking at Katty, "So proud that you did though dear," he said with a smirk. Katherine smiled, shoveling up the last of her food and going upstairs to dress herself. Sherlock let out a breath, pulling out his phone to send an email he'd saved, sending them to the schools in question. He looked at John, "I know it's rushed today but...I want you there, helping to make the decision," he said softly.

"I know," John sighed, leaning against Sherlock and closing his eyes for a short moment. "I just don't like thinking about it." He stood then, taking all of their dishes and putting them in the sink. "Let's go get dressed, love," he suggested, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair as he walked past him.

Sherlock hummed, following after John down the hall. He pulled on some clothes quickly and walked up behind John as he did so as well, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his shoulder gently. "If only it were as easy for us, as it was for her hmm?" he asked, thinking about how simple it was for Katherine. She didn't fully understand. She knew John was going away but time didn't mean as much to her, and she didn't understand the danger involved. Sometimes Sherlock hated being an adult.

John paused as he was moving to pull on a jumper, leaning back against Sherlock's chest so that he was more firmly secured in his arms. "I wouldn't want to be so naive," he said quietly. "At least we can prepare for the worst, so if it comes to that, then it won't be so much of a shock. For her..." he sighed, turning to kiss Sherlock's jaw. "If I don't come back, she might be traumatised for the rest of her life."

Sherlock looked at John as he turned around, and he felt a bit stung by the comment. "I'm not telling her you're going away to get shot at. I will not tell our daughter that you might die and never come back," he said firmly, a frown forming on his lips. "Because you are coming back," he insisted. "So there, stop talking like that or I'll kill you myself," he he said, wrapping his arms around John tightly. "At least you'd stay."

"I wasn't saying that you should tell her, I'm just saying that not knowing is not always easier," John murmured, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder. "I'm also saying that I don't want to go." He closed his eyes, reaching up to comb through Sherlock's hair. He didn't want to go to the schools, he didn't want to go back to the desert. He didn't want to go anywhere. He wanted to stay here, wrapped up in Sherlock's arms, and tell the rest of the world to piss off. Too bad that he couldn't.

Sherlock held John all the tighter and nodded a little, "I know. I know you don't, and I know it's not fair." Christ, it wasn't fucking fair. He let out a breath, pulling away a little bit and holding John's face. "But we're older now...can't just, ignore everything...this will happen, and it will pass, and then nothing like this will ever happen again," he said. "And I will still try, with Mycroft, everyday. Get you out, or get you moved...get you safe." 

John nodded, leaning into Sherlock's hands. "I know you will. But don't... don't count on it, Sherlock. Don't get too attached to the thought. Once I'm in a routine, pulling me out of it is hard. They'd have to find a new fit, and I'd have to get readjusted. It's better to just let it be. I'll be safe, Sherlock, I promise." He knew that they would never come to an agreement on this. Safety was just relative in the end, it was never a definite thing. Over there, a stray bomb could kill you every time you leave your bunker. A suicide shooter could catch you unaware. You could get hit by a stray bullet in a random gunfight. No one was safe.

Sherlock huffed, a small pout forming on his lips. He swallowed, letting out a breath as he nodded. He in no way agreed with John, and would still try to get John somewhere where he was statistically less likely to get hurt. He winced a little as his stomach churned, morning sickness striking again, combined with his full stomach. He pulled away and dashed to the bathroom, heaving his food into the toilet with a groan.

John looked after Sherlock for a moment before he finished getting dressed, pulling on the jumper Sherlock had given him for Christmas. He walked into the bathroom then, leaning against the counter and combing Sherlock's curls. "You got this awful early, didn't you?" he murmured, referring to the morning sickness. Usually that waited a few months.

Sherlock groaned, leaning into John's hand as he was still kneeling by the toilet. "Every pregnancy is different," he mumbled, sicking up again, though there was much less this go around. "Only just started at the month mark, so about a week now," he murmured quietly, standing up to rinse his mouth out. 

John sighed, rubbing Sherlock's back as he rinsed and spit. "You should figure out which foods upset your stomach the least. Focus on eating them," he suggested softly, kissing Sherlock's shoulder. "Come on. Let's go get Kat and head off. She's excited." He smiled at his mate and then left the bathroom, heading out to the living room to wait for them both.

*********

Four days later and John was as good as dead on his feet. He had just put Kat to bed, for the last time for a year and a half. Tomorrow was the day when he was getting on a plane, flying back out to the one place he had sworn to never return to. He had less than twelve hours left with Sherlock, and the thought made him nearly sick, and it almost brought him to his knees. He walked slowly down the stairs and into the living room, finding Sherlock on the couch and moving to sit beside him. He wanted to apologise, to cry, but nothing came out. He was numb, he was shocked. Where had their week gone?

They'd picked a school, one that Katherine was absolutely smitten with, and Sherlock liked it as well. Good bathrooms too, from what he saw when he was sick once more. The days...god, the days. They just disappeared and he was sitting on the sofa, sorting through each moment in his mind palace when he felt the sofa move. He blinked his eyes a few times, not quite withdrawing all the way, only doing so enough to lean over and rest his head on John's shoulder. "I wish you could hide in here with me...I'd show you everything...every last detail that I've kept safe," he said quietly. "You know I made cupboard for the solar system? Just because you mentioned me not knowing about it."

John turned around suddenly and wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock neck, burying his face in the crook between his neck and his shoulder and inhaling deeply. "Sherlock..." he nearly sobbed, reaching up to run his fingers through his mate's hair. He was leaving in the morning; he didn't want to talk about the solar system. He wanted to hold his love, his mate.

Sherlock felt a painful twist in his chest but stayed silent, curling in close to John. He wouldn't cry, he wouldn't dare do that to John. No...he would cry later, in the shower, away from where Kat will ever know he was sad. "I love you...my John, always. And...it's going to be okay. It will be, you just take care of yourself. And I'll take care of everything else," He said quietly, nuzzling into John's neck. He'd already packed one of Sherlock's scarves, and one of Katherine's doll shirts from the one she carried all the time. Spraying them with the solution Mindy gave him. He'd also sprayed John's pillow and a couple jumpers.

John shook his head, but no words came out. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to be drafted, he wasn't supposed to be leaving his growing family. He was already packed, ready to just pick up the small bag of items he was allowed, and go on his way in the morning. But he didn't want to do that. He wanted to hide in the cupboard and never come out. "Come lay with me," he said quietly, pulling back and standing from the couch, tugging Sherlock up with him.

Sherlock sighed, standing up slowly and wrapping his arms around John, not waiting until they were in bed. He let out a breath that shook only slightly, he was still trying to keep his composure for John, to try and make it easier. Inside though...he was screaming. "Of course" he said, kissing John's neck and starting down the hall, not wanting to think about how he'd be walking down it alone for quite some time.

John walked after Sherlock slowly, taking his time because he wanted time to slow down with him. He thought that the slower he walked, the slower the clock would move, and the longer he would have with his love, his mate, with Sherlock. Of course, he knew that the thought was whimsical at best. He stripped down to his pants as soon as he entered the bedroom, tossing his clothes aside and crawling into bed. Sherlock was there already, and John pulled him close, cradling his Omega's head against his chest. "It's alright, love," he whispered into his hair. "You can cry. I've got you."

Sherlock shrugged off the dressing gown he'd been wearing all day, forgoing the sheet for it instead and climbed into bed, curling up into a tight ball. He shut his eyes when John laid down and tugged him close, and almost felt like shattering when John told him he could cry. No he couldn't...that would make things so much worse. "N-no...I'm f-fine," he said, squeezing his eyes shut at the childhood stammer that had reappeared. It almost never did that. 

"Sherlock," John whispered, threading his fingers through Sherlock's hair at the back of his skull, wrapping his arm around his waist. He himself was numb, entirely. He was done crying. He had spent his tears, and now he was going to be here for his mate. "Please. This is my last chance to hold you for a long time. Don't hold anything back. No barriers, alright?" he pleaded, rocking him gently and rubbing his back.

Sherlock let out a short breath, cutting it off before it would choke into a sob. "I c....can't....it'll hurt." he said, not specifying who it would hurt. Both of them obviously, and Sherlock didn't want to do that with John. He took a deep breath, gulping down John's scent while it was there and fresh, trying to calm himself down so he could just shut up.

John didn't protest, not wanting to force Sherlock to do something that he wouldn't want. He locked their legs together, pressing Sherlock against him until there wasn't any part of his Omega that he couldn't feel. He buried his face in Sherlock's hair, breathing him in in slow gulps on air, trying not to waste any time, and trying not to waste any breath.

Sherlock shook a little bit, pressing himself as tightly as he could against John. Finally, a choked out sob came from him and he burst into tears, not able to hold them in, even though John would have let him. His arms went around John, fingers clenched tightly into fists as he clutched his mate close to him. "I hate them so much....I hate them...for taking you away again, it's not fair!" he choked out, noise muffled as he shouted into John's chest, shaking.

John cringed at the pain his mate was feeling, able to feel the utter agony through their bond. "God, love, I know," he whispered, stroking his hand soothingly down Sherlock's back. He slid down the bed a little farther, tucking Sherlock's head into the crook of his neck and letting him breathe in his scent from there, where it was stronger and more likely to calm him down. "Let it out, love."

Sherlock was gulping for air, his breaths coming in short, frantic bursts. He'd held in everything for most of the week, not showing a single thing, not letting any of it out and now it was no longer threatening the walls of the damn he'd built around the motion, but it was spilling over, the cracks that had been forming growing larger. Now he couldn't hold it back, and he couldn't breathe, his head going light after a minute, hyperventilating between the tears, still clutching tightly at John.

"Heyheyhey," John whispered quickly, sitting Sherlock up and forcing him to let go. He moved behind Sherlock, pressing against him so that they were still close, and then forced his head between his knees. "Breathe, love, breathe. I don't care if you start screaming. Anything his better than this," he whispered, nuzzling the back of his neck and kissing over their mark. His own chest was tight, but Sherlock came first--Sherlock always came first.

Sherlock whined when his arms were removed from around John, not wanting to let go of him, he'd rather have John more than air right now...breathing was boring. He leaned back into John despite the Alpha forcing him forward and he bit down on his lip. He strained a little, trying to turn around again, wanting to curl back around him. He sucked in a breath, only to have his lungs shove it back out again as he tried to form words, arguments against the world for doing this to them again but noting came out except for small breathless noises.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's chest, crying quietly against his shoulder as he held him both against him and kept him forced down to try to make him breathe. This wasn't right, none of this was right, but what could they do? Nothing, they couldn't do anything. He could just hold Sherlock and try to ease his pain. "I know," he murmured placing his teeth over their bond mark, and he did know. He knew perfectly well what was going on and how bad it was.

A pained noise came from Sherlock, his breaths slowed a fraction, at least to the point where he could take more full ones. He gasped as he felt John's teeth on .his mark and he leaned back into them, feeling them press more against it, his hands tightening on the arms that were wrapped around his chest. "P-p-please...John...Please..." he begged, pressing more into his teeth

John whimpered, biting down harder without question until he broke Sherlock's skin, but he wouldn't bite any further. He broke off, still quietly crying, and licking over the new wound, pulling Sherlock firmer back against him. "I'm so sorry," he gasped against his shoulder, aching for his mate.

Sherlock cried out a little at the pain, but his body went limp instinctively and that's what he needed. His muscles unknotted, relaxing a bit and his breaths started to come easier. It didn't stop the trembling, Sherlock doubted anything would but time. He swallowed, taking a moment to catch his breath before turning, wrapping his arms around John, and then doing the same with his legs. "I know....mmlove you...always, my John....always." he said.

John buried his face in the crook of Sherlock's neck, inhaling his scent deeply and shaking as he exhaled. "I'm going to miss you. I'm going to miss you so so much," he gasped, his arms wrapped tightly around Sherlock's waist and clinging to him, rocking him gently. "You have to promise me, promise me, to tell me about everything. Every stupid little thing that happens to you, I want to know, alright? You have to tell me all of it."

Sherlock nodded, holding onto John, though not as tightly as before, the pulsing pain in his neck still present, a reminder that he was John's, and though John was going away, John was never leaving him. "Everything...not a detail spared. Never."

"Good," John said, though it came out as more of a whimper. he slowly crawled backwards on the bed, lying down on his back and pulling Sherlock on top of him. It was the same way they had fallen asleep before he had left last time, and he had made it home then. He would make it home this time as well. "I love you," he whispered again, because he couldn't say it enough. "I belong to you," he said, tracing the chain around Sherlock's neck that held his dog tags. "Don't ever forget that, and I won't either." 

Sherlock settled on top of John, resting his head on his chest. "I love you...always." he murmured. He nodded a little, "I couldn't forget that John, never. I wouldn't be here...if not for you." he said quietly. "My life...it's yours, always will be." he said quietly. "Mon John," he breathed.

John nearly started sobbing again, but he managed to hold it together. "Yours," he breathed, his eyes slipping closed against his will, his arms slackening, and eventually he fell asleep, cradling Sherlock against him.

"Yours." The Omega echoed softly, letting out a breath. He felt as John fell asleep, listening to his slowed breathing. He himself didn't sleep, as exhausted as he was, he couldn't take his eyes off of John, reaching out and stroking his face gently from time to time. He was still awake when John's alarm went off in the early morning, and he watched as John woke, the worried, pinched expression working it's way back onto the Alpha's features.

John reached over, shutting off his alarm like his had done every morning. Except this wasn't every morning. He turned his expression back up, reaching to comb his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "I love you," he said, and he was going to say it as often as possible in the next three hours that he had with him and Katherine. He squeezed his eyes closed as an ache went through his chest, and then he sat up with Sherlock in his arms, holding him close. He kissed him softly, savouring the tired response. "I'm going to go wake Katty up," he murmured. "Will you start her breakfast?" he asked quietly.

Sherlock stayed practically limp as John sat them both up, still holding him. He kissed him back gently, letting out a breath. He looked up at John, then nodded a bit, not wanting to get out of bed. Not wanting to cook, not wanting to get into a cab and go to the airport...just not wanting to do anything really. Still, he methodically pulled himself from John's arms gently and pulled on some clothes, wandering numbly down the hall and into the kitchen to start some toast. A small breakfast would do, he'd take Katty out later to distract her or something. That and he wouldn't have to cook. He pulled out the jam and set it on the table, finishing off some toast slices and sitting down at his seat, resting his head on his arms atop the table.

John got dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, knowing how hot it was going to be as soon as he stepped off of the plane. He walked up the stairs, flicking on the light in Kat's room and smiling a little at her grumbled protest. Walking over to sit at the edge of her bed, he rubbed her belly for a moment, then brushed his fingers through her tangled hair as best as he could. "Come on, sweetie," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead and then her cheeks. "We have to get in a cab this morning and go to the airport, remember? Have to say goodbye to Papa." Somehow, he managed to keep his voice from cracking, but he wasn't quite sure how.

Katherine's face scrunched up against the light and she rolled onto her side, curling up next to John's hip and mumbled something incoherently. She blinked her eyes open after a minute, rubbing at one of them and looking up at him, brows furrowed. "S'today already?" she asked quietly, sitting and stretching sleepily. She clambered up onto his lap, straightening her nightie before snuggling close to him, sniffing a bit, her nose still stuffed, cold coming on slowly so far, as she coughed occasionally. "How 'bout jus'stay in bed today?" she asked. "Don'want Papa to go." 

John wrapped his arms around his daughter's small body, holding her close and nuzzling into her hair. "I know, sweetheart," he said quietly, rubbing her back slowly. "But I have to go. And I'll be back before you know it, I promise. Now come on, let's get dressed," he urged, leaning back and kissing her forehead before stepping away to her chest of drawers and picking out a warm outfit for her. "Here, Katty," he murmured, helping her out of her nightie and into the jumper and warm trousers he had picked out.

Katherine let out a small breath, rubbing her nose a bit before sliding out of bed. "Can't Papa call in sick? Do that for work sometimes," She pointed out. She got dressed and tugged on a pair of socks and shoes. "Daddy says Papa has to skype us. And...on our birthday in a wittle bit." She said quietly, looking up at her papa.

"No, sweetie, I can't call in sick. Not for this; it's not really the same," John whispered, picking up his daughter and holding her against his chest. "But yes, I'll be skyping with you and writing to you, as often as I can, I promise," he said, carrying her downstairs and into the kitchen. "Sherlock, love, you still tired?" he asked as a way of asking if he was alright as he set Kat down in her chair. 

Katherine pouted as John carried her downstairs. She settled into her chair and reached out for he favorite jam, not quite able to reach it. Sherlock sat up as soon as he heard John speak, reaching out methodically to spread jam on Katherine's and then John's toast. " Mmfine." He murmured quietly, rings under his eyes, though he carefully controlled his expression for Katherine, as he would for the next year and a half.

John sat down in Sherlock's lap, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and reaching for his toast. He took a bite, then made Sherlock eat some too. He nuzzled against his jaw, wanting to be as close to him as possible. "Love you," he whispered.

Sherlock's arm wrapped around John's waist on it's own, and he watched Katherine eat. He blinked, looking up when he felt John's toast nudge against his mouth. He didn't dare refuse it and really...he didn't have the energy to do so. "Mmloveyou...always." he murmured softly. He looked upon at John with tired eyes, glad he didn't sleep. Not enough energy to cry.

John combed his fingers through Sherlock's hair, petting his face gently. He kept his eye on the clock, and when it turned seven, he stood, putting away their empty plates. "Can you get our daughter? I need to go grab my bag," John murmured, kissing Sherlock's temple before walking into the bedroom. He found his gun and tucked it into his waistband, sliding his knives into his pockets, and then picked up his bags and walked to the door.

Sherlock reached up and grabbed the tags hanging from his neck through his shirt, gripping onto them tightly. He swallowed tightly, feeling almost like he was going to be sick. He very well could be...he had reason to, and being pregnant. He stood up, walking over to Katherine who held up her arms to be held. Sherlock complied, putting a smile on his face for her. "Hey Katty girl," he said, lifting her. "You're getting almost too big to pick up honey. Not yet though...soon though I'll be too big to pick you up." he whispered quietly, holding onto her. She would be all he had while John was gone. 

John pulled on his shoes, knowing that he would be issued an entirely knew outfit once he got to his base. They may even issue him a new weapon--it was hard to say. He sighed, walking back over to the kitchen doorway and smiling softly and Sherlock and Kat. "Come on, love. We're going to be late," he whispered.

Sherlock looked over at John, seeing him with his bag and he felt like his heart stopped. "And wouldn't the country just fall if we did." he muttered, walking into the living room and helping Katherine into a light coat. With her jumper and the somewhat warmer weather, she would be fine. He sighed, forcing himself to take the stairs and wait on the pavement as John hailed a cab, trying to keep himself under control. He was failing in one respect it seemed, without his knowledge, for a minute later Katherine blinked, looking at him. 

"Daddy's shaking... cold?" she asked, brows furrowed in concern. 

John looked over his shoulder as the cab pulled up, furrowing his brow and frowning in sympathy at his trembling mate. He was just barely holding it together himself, but he couldn't imagine what Sherlock was going through with the pregnancy hormones raging through his body. He held the door open and let Kat crawl in, who still hadn't gotten an answer from Sherlock, and then nodded for Sherlock to go, and he took up the rear, telling the cabbie to take them to Heathrow. "It's alright, Katty. Papa'll warm him up," John said with a small smile, pulling Sherlock onto his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around him, linking their fingers together.

Sherlock blinked a few times when he realized that he was being held, having zoned out, retreating into his head for a moment without realizing. He looked up at John, squeezing his fingers lightly. He wished he only felt cold, he wanted this to be enough to make him feel better. He swallowed thickly, "I...I can't do this John," he whispered quietly, hating himself for saying it. He could of course, but at the moment...he didn't know how he would be able to. It didn't feel like he could do it.

John shook his head, tucking Sherlock's head down against his neck. "I can't do it either," he whispered. He was terrified. The last time he had been there, more than fifty men and women had died under his hand, not including the terrorists that he had killed on purpose. He had watched his best friends die, and had almost been killed himself. He had come home with nightmares and waking terrors. He swallowed. "But we don't have a choice. We're in the cab. We're driving to the airport. I'm getting on that plane, and in fifteen months, I'm getting back on that plane and I'm coming home to you."

Sherlock shut his eyes, swallowing thickly as he nodded. He didn't want this, and yet it was. He bit down on his lip, letting out a breath. "Then it looks like we can do it...we'll have to." He kissed John's cheek and down his neck a little, resting there and inhaling his scent. "Just, because I doubt I'll be able to talk when we get there, take care of yourself, and don't lose it. Don't you dare, John. Because you need to come back. And...when you're past the security point...turn around this time. We need to see you that last time because not seeing you...it's worse." 

Worse for you, John thought, but he nodded, because he was not a selfish man, and he cared far more about Sherlock and Katherine than he did about himself. "I'm not going to lose it. I promise. I'll be on that plane home, and I'll be in one piece." He looked out of the window, seeing the airport, and tightened his arms around Sherlock, not wanting to depart from him. When they parked, he paid the cabbie, then let Sherlock out first and followed, holding a hand out for Katherine and taking Sherlock's in his other.

Sherlock nodded again, swallowing thickly as he ducked into his mind palace for a minute. What would be a short amount of time in the cab, would be longer in his head. He walked up to John's wing of his mind palace, placing his hand on the door and letting out a breath. Swallowing, he pulled out the chain around his neck which along with the tags now held a key, which he used to lock the door. He'd pulled out what he needed, what he would allow himself of his mate while he was gone and put it in a safe place. And just in case...he did have the key, though he would endeavor not to use it. Sherlock pulled out as the cab stopped, and climbed out, taking John's hand when offered. It hurt less now, having locked majority of the pain away into that wing where it would stay, because he couldn't lose it either. He swallowed, squeezing John's hand a little as they were lead to the terminal.

John stopped them when they were just in front of the security that he didn't have to walk through, but that Sherlock and Kat couldn't go past. He released their hands, kneeling down in front of Katherine and straightening her jacket. "You remember your promises to me, alright? You stay strong for your daddy. And be a good girl, and draw me lots of pictures, alright?" He kissed the tip of her nose and then pulled her into a tight hug. "I'll see you soon, baby," he promised, not wanting to ever let her go. There were other soldiers starting to file in around them who were saying goodbye to mates and family members as well, but he had attention only for his loves.

Katherine was twisting her fingers a little bit, looking sheepishly down and glancing at the boots of the other men and women. She looked up when John knelt down in front of her and she sniffled a bit, not entirely sure it was just her cold. She nodded, "Mhm...take care of Daddy," she said quietly, wrapping her arms around his neck and held onto her. "Mmlove you Papa..." she said quietly, holding herself tightly to him and also moving quickly to wrap her legs around his middle as well, effectively holding herself onto him.

John fought hard to keep himself from sobbing, rubbing his hand over Kat's back and murmuring soft words too her, telling her that he loved her and that she was so brave and that he was going to see her soon. Gently, he disentangled her from him, kissing the top of her head, before he stood, facing Sherlock with sad eyes, not wanting to say everything that he needed to say, because they would both drown in their tears if he did. "I love you," he whispered, reaching up to cup Sherlock's cheek, stroking his thumb over his cheekbone. "You keep your promises too."

Katherine had gripped as tightly as she could, but John was always stronger than her, and when she was gently pulled away and John looked over at Sherlock, her arms wrapped around his leg tightly, nuzzling against his hip. 

Sherlock bit his lip and nodded a little, "I love you...always, John you know that." he said, forcing down the lump in his throat. "Wh-when you turn back...I'll smile for her...if you do," he said, leaning forward and kissing John firmly, not waiting for an answer. He knew the answer, they would both smile, because Katherine was more important. When they finally pulled away, he held John's face in his hands. "You write to me...you first, I have to know where you are, that you're safe." 

John could feel himself slowly breaking, his insides slowly shattering apart and falling to the ground like glass. He was going to cut himself if he wasn't careful. He needed to leave before that happened. He nodded, turning his head to kiss Sherlock's palm, then reached down, pulling Kat from his leg and giving her one last hug before handing her over to Sherlock and picking up his bag. "I love you both. I'll write to you both as soon as I can," he promised, turning for the security check. When he passed it, he forced himself to stop and turn, waving one last time at his mate and their pup. His smile choked him. As soon as he was around the corner, he fled to the plane, collapsing in his seat and burying his face in his hands, sobbing like he would never be able to fix himself.

Sherlock plastered a smile on his face, holding a now pouting Katherine. He forced himself to lift his hand and give an almost non-existent wave to his mate as he looked at them again. Before he disappeared. He stood there for a while, holding Katherine and bouncing her gently. They watched as the plane took off, carrying him far away from them both. Katherine, who seemed to pick up on the gravity of what it meant for John to go away started crying softly, saying she wanted Papa back already. It broke Sherlock's heart and he cradled her close to him as he carried her back to a cab, rocking her all the way home, murmuring how he wanted Papa back too, but that he would write and they could skype and that Papa was going to come back soon. He had to believe this...

**********************************

February 23  
Hello love, hello Katty,  
I'm sorry I couldn't write to you the night that we landed. I was immediately sent off to the hospital to organise my office and my station. I met a few of the nurses -- there are actually some male nurses this time, which is interesting, but not exactly new to me. I'm not bunking with anyone, because I'm a Captain, and yesterday I met my team. They're all nice. Three women this time 'round. They issued me a new gun, so I can give you my old one when you're old enough, Katty. But shh, don't tell anyone. It has to be our secret. This one's a SIG Sauer, and it's a much nicer gun, if I do say so. They seemed to remember my needs, and it's formulated to me again. I really don't have anything else to say. I'm safe. It's really boring right now. And hot. Dear god, I forgot how hot it gets.  
I love you and miss you both,  
John (Papa)

February 24  
John,  
I was...and am so relieved to get your message. I worried, but then...don't I always? I'm...doing okay, still hard but...I think that's mostly hormone stuff. That's all that's left really for the most part. I've developed the knack of shoving things away in my head and...well, I sort of locked that all into your wing for now, deal with it bit by bit later. Sorry...don't want to put to much on you, but you asked me to spare no details. Had another doctor's appointment, everything's okay with the pup, still too early to tell anything really sex wise. Maria's asked that I start some anxiety medication though. It's safe for the pup, better for it really. She said I'm too high strung or something, and that it could put stress on the pup. Could have been why I lost the first one, Katherine's twin. I don't want to do that again. I'm eating also. I'm happy to know that you're bored. Normally I don't tolerate it but...I think in this case, bored is good. Katherine sees me writing and has asked me to write as she dictate: 

Papa,  
I miss you lots and lots, and miss your hugs and stories. I have a picture for you that I made. It's you and your friends where you are, and you're making sand castles. Daddy says there is lots of sand where you are. I'm putting it in the letter, and Daddy says I can lick the stamps and put it in the post box. I love you Papa. -Katty

She misses you. You said no details spared so...she is a bit different with you gone. She cried a little that first night, but we both did so it was okay. She's a bit quieter though now...and I know that's my fault, I was gone for so long. But still, we're both fine, the pup is fine. We love you. 

Love always, 

Sherlock.

February 28  
Sherlock,  
I know it's hard, love, but I'm glad you went in to see Maria, and I'm glad you started some medication. I hope it does wonders. It should, but you're stubborn. Please trust that it will work, and it will. I'm glad you're eating. God, I'm glad you're doing everything that you're doing. I love you so much. I'm sorry I can't say that I'm bored anymore. I've had six wounded soldiers come through for care already. None have died, thank god, but one is going home without his left hand. Poor bloke. The desert has changed, Sherlock. You told me to tell you what was happening, so please don't get worried, because I am safe, but the terrorists have changed. They used to be all about knives and guns, now they're using suicide bombers and car bombs as main weapons. I've heard that the city streets are terrifying. I don't want to leave the base, ever, for anything.

Katty,  
Oh, sweetheart, I miss you too. When you read your stories at night, I want you to imagine that I'm reading them, alright? I loved your picture. That was a really big and pretty sand castle. Keep being good for Daddy, alright? Love you.

Just keep her engaged, love. She'll come around. You're all that she's got now, so she'll talk to you. Promise.  
Love forever,  
John

March 1  
John,  
Mycroft is irritating me to no end, insisting that he's unable to do anything, especially when you've only just got where you are. Perhaps after a month or so I can try again. I don't care what you say, I'm still trying to bring you home, or at least get you somewhere safer. Surely, can't you just do something that would get you discharged that doesn't involve you getting hurt? Took Katherine to the zoo, trying to engage her as you said. Seemed to help I think, and she's already got dozens of pictures for you. I've explained though that we can only fit so many of them in a letter so she is sending along her favorite animals that she saw at the zoo. She won't tell me what they are, insisting that they are 'for Papa only'. Not even four yet and she's already keeping secrets from me. Please stay safe. Katty is itching to skype with you, keeps talking about it and has asked me to remind you again that we need to do so, and that she is being good for me.

Always yours, 

Sherlock.

 

March 8

Sorry for not replying, we had a crisis nearby that I had to deal with. Some idiot set off a string of car bombs nearby, and I had to go out with the other doctors and nurses to bring in the wounded. Christ, I've never... I'll save you from the details. You're pregnant; you don't need to be reading about that. I'm glad you're engaging and that she's responding. Tell her that I've gotten all of her pictures so far and that I love them, and that we'll be skyping soon. I just need time. I don't have any time.  
I'm sorry, love, but this can't be any longer. I need to get back to work. I've already lost three.  
Goodnight from here.  
I love you.  
John

 

March 9  
John,   
I am sorry about the three, I know you did everything you could. And you remember that you did...don't carry that weight again, please. Just remember, that their chances, everyone's chances are higher with you there, and they definitely would not have made it it you hadn't helped. I love you. Been feeling a bit under the weather, Katherine gave me her cold I think. Mindy said something about going to the country or something on a holiday and I sent Katherine along with her, Harry, and Clara. All three of them send their love. I'm getting close to the first trimester ending, I look forward to that...I'll be less nervous I think. 

I don't want the details...well I do, but I don't think I could stand them. I just know what I see on the news, and I pray...I pray John, that it's not you. I don't even know who I'm praying to...but I just hope someone hears it I guess. You've reduced me to someone who's bordering on desperate spiritualism. Me. I miss Katty, I miss you. Perhaps I should have gone along but then I wouldn't have my email, my phone doesn't work out there. 

Love,  
Sherlock.

March 10  
Sherlock, love,   
You shouldn't be alone. Call up Molly or Greg, go down and sit with Mrs. Hudson. Please, just don't be alone. It's not good for you, love. But I think it's good that you sent Katherine out with them. It should be good for her to get away, spend some time with some other girls that she doesn't see all the time. Your first trimester ends in a week, doesn't it? You should be able to go in for a checkup then, maybe get a test to determine the sex? I'm still day dreaming about a little boy with curly blond hair and your grey eyes.  
I've stopped sleeping with your scarf and Kat's doll. I can't count the night's I've woken up thinking that I was back home with the two of you, and waking up to find you not there is just... I couldn't deal with it anymore. So I wear your scarf when I'm off duty at night, and I keep Kat's doll tucked into my breast pocket then as well, but that's as close as I can get to the two of you.  
I love you, Sherlock. And don't worry. Those news reports are not about me, and they never will be.  
John.

March 12

Week and a half now, and...I'm okay. Katherine comes home in a few days, and as for Greg, well... he and Mycroft have gone on holiday too it seems. At least I think, I don't know. They're just...both gone, not picking up their calls. Greg texted me and said they want some time. I think they're trying again personally...and I wish them luck I suppose. I can test for the sex if you want, I was thinking of waiting for the ultrasound to show it, but if you want it done sooner, I can. I want to know, but the closer I get the more I worry. I had a dream the other night...about the baby. I wish I hadn't.

But anyway, things are...fine. Mrs. Hudson and everyone is well. I am well, all things considered, the worst of the cold passing. Hence the delay of a day, I slept most of yesterday. I miss you, and I haven't stopped sleeping with your jumper and pillow, I don't think I could bear to be away from it really. I wear it from time to time. Am I really so skinny? It feels so big on me. But then...I'll grow into it soon I should think. I'm not sure, you be the judge. 

[Image attached: Photo of Sherlock's exposed belly, obviously self-taken, a small bump noticeable]

You can only see it if I lift up my shirt, or wear one of my really tight ones. But lately I've taken to wearing your jumpers. I broke down and sprayed that solution on all of them actually...sorry. 

Love, 

Sherlock.

 

March 19

Only three days left then, yeah? Sorry, love, I got busy at the hospital, and then it was a teammate's birthday, and then we had to go into the city, and this whole week has just been one from hell, you know? Damn dust storms have been kicking up lately. I'm not used to it. I wasn't in the city last time during storm season, and I'm glad I wasn't. Visibility is complete shit, and I feel bad for the boys on scout duty. They doubled that, by the way. Everyone's really on edge, and it's putting me on edge.  
Tell me about your dream. No hidden details, remember?  
You look adorable, and I'm glad you're wearing my sweaters. Not like I mind--they'll still smell like me when I get back. Katty should be back by now, right? Say hi to her for me. I'll be skyping with you guys in a little over a week, okay? Promise.  
Love you so much,  
John

March 20

Two. And I don't think I like how often they're sending you out. The dream was...was nothing. I just...I forgot to take my pills that day or something. In it I....I lost the baby. Not like that mind you, not like last time. I had him, he was already here and beautiful. I can't remember what he looked like. But then...he just wasn't. And I couldn't find him anywhere, and then you came home. You came home and it was supposed to be happy but I didn't have him, and you just kept asking where he was, what I had done. The conversation went on for a bit...nothing you would really say I know...you'd never say things like that. 

Katty is back, and sends 'lots and lots and lots and lots of hugs and loves'. She knows all of the alphabet now and can recite it quickly. We've also started on French, but she's not as interested as I hoped. She's more intrigued it seems by sign language so I think I will learn up on it and do that with her. Learning a new language in early childhood is vital, when she's older she'll have lost the ability. Engagement, remember. Speaking of which...I wish I'd married you. Forget about the big to do...we could have always done it later. But we will do it later. 

Katty is excited about the skype date, but I told her it is still a maybe...I don't want her dead set on something like that. Especially so near your birthday. I know you may not be able to skype then, but try and write to us by then? Katherine has made you a card, and I've scanned it so I can send it along faster for you. 

Love always, 

 Sherlock

March 29

God, love, that dream sounds like living hell. I'm so sorry, baby. I wish I could hold you and fix it. Tell Kat that I got her card and that it's beautiful. Actually, on second thought, don't tell her anything. We have a Skype date in two days, alright? 3 p.m. your time; I'm missing supper for it, but whatever. It'll be worth it to see you guys. I'll leave my Skype messenger open, so just dial me up when you're ready, alright?  
I love you.

*********************************

"Daddy! DaddyDaddyDaddy! Time talk to Papa!" Sherlock sat up abruptly from the sofa, having dozed off a bit. He was so bloody tired all the time, this pup was just taking it all out of him. At least he figured it was that, he wasn't going to even think depression. He wasn't depressed, he just missed his mate. That was allowed. "Right, thank you for reminding me baby," he said, lifting Katherine onto his lap just as the alarm he set on his phone went off. He opened up his lap top and his skype window popped up, and there was John...online. He smiled, wrapping his arms around Katherine. "You press call, okay?" he said quietly, biting his lip and fixing his eyes on the screen as she did so. She was practically bouncing on his lap.

John had been sitting on his bed, leaning back against the wall and fiddling with Sherlock's scarf in his lap when the call sign came on on his screen, and he smiled, immediately clicking the answer button. "Hey baby!" he said, seeing a bouncing Katherine first, sitting in Sherlock's lap. The connection wasn't great, but god, it was good to see them. "Happy birthday, sweetheart." He smiled back at Sherlock, tilting the screen up so that he could see them better. "Hello, love. I miss you."

"Papaaa!" Katherine squealed, grinning wide. "Happy Birthday Papa! I'm four!" she said with a smile, quickly starting to babble on about the zoo, and what they were doing later that day and who was coming over and how she was four now, restating the fact a few times. Sherlock let her talk, just looking at John through the fuzzy connection, trying to deduce what he could, tired...busy. Busy wasn't good. Not over there. "John," he said, smiling stupidly, eyes watering a little from a mixture of happiness and sadness. He swallowed, looking at him, in fatigues.

John listened to Kat talk aimlessly on, restating over and over how old she was, and things she had done. When she had finally settled down, he told her how proud he was of her and how amazing it was that she was four years old. Then he turned to Sherlock, smiling sadly when his mate said his name so softly. "Sherlock," he whispered, wishing he could reach out and touch him, hold him, press his hand over the bump of his belly. Maybe this had been a stupid idea. Maybe this would be more pain than it was worth.

Sherlock smiled a watery smile, resting his chin on Katherine's shoulder. "We can't just have these monosyllabic conversations, people will think we've dumbed down." He Katherine's cheek, "Show Papa what you learned," he murmured, "Then maybe you can go upstairs and draw him something real fast, you're getting so good at it." 

Katherine beamed and nodded, clearing her throat before reciting a choppy "Je t'aime papa. Joyeux anniver-....hmm...it means I love you Papa and Happy Birthday. I'm going to draw a picture really fast!" she said, sliding off of Sherlock's lap and bounding upstairs. Sherlock smiled, looking at John. 

"You look good...think more sleep might be in order, though likely you'll just tell me the same thing," he said, tilting the computer screen down and lifting up his shirt a little, showing his bump in real time as he turned to the side. "First trimester's up. I have an appointment in a little while to take that test." he said, turning the screen up again so they could see each other's face.

"I know I need more sleep, and yeah, so do you. Unfortunately, I can get three hours a night on average, five when I'm lucky." John sighed, resting his chin on his palm and looking happily at Sherlock. "I just want to hold you, but I can't. You're seven and a half hours away, and I'm sitting in the middle of a desert." He paused, smiling at Sherlock through the camera. "You look good, though. Putting on a little weight, which is good."

Sherlock pouted a little at the comment on his weight, which was a sensitive topic for him. Mycroft as well, hence his little 'workout room' or office as Mycroft likes to call it. He rested his hand on his stomach. "Feels like butterflies sometimes," he said quietly, you can't feel anything yet from the outside, it's still too small, but...inside, just a little." He looked back up at John. It was so nice seeing him, Sherlock was afraid that it would hurt more than it helped. "I want you here to hold me but, one month down," he said with a small smile, that much closer to seeing you again. It's hard but...easier in a sense. When you left the first time you were all I had...now, I have Katherine to keep me busy," he said.

John hadn't meant to start crying, but he soon found himself wiping at his eyes, smearing his tears across his cheeks to evaporate later. "Oh, god, I'm sorry," he gasped out shakily, smiling through the screen at Sherlock. "I just miss you so much."

There was a knock at his door, and John cleared his throat. "Yeah, come in," he said, holding up his finger to Sherlock. His second in command, Amelia, stepped in, looking apologetic. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but there's an emergency at the hospital. They need you."

John looked back at the screen. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock," he whispered. "I need to go. I love you so much. Tell Katty bye for me."

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, to say that he'd hardly even got to speak to him yet, but he knew that the soldier's life was more important than their conversation. "I will...and I'll leave this on. Whenever I am home, whenever I'm awake my computer will be on, whenever you can...call. Please," he said. "I love you.=," he said, looking intently at John while he still could.

"I will," John promised, hating himself as he hung up, but he stood up quickly and gestured for Amelia to lead on. "Was that your mate, sir?" she asked. John nodded, jogging after her as they made their way to the hospital. "You have anyone waiting for you?" he questioned as they opted to take the stairs. She shook her head, her bun staying firmly in place. "No, sir. I volunteered and didn't feel like leaving anyone behind." John smiled a little sadly when they reached his level. "I'm glad that worked out for you," he said, nodding briskly at her and taking off for his op room.

Sherlock stared at the screen, looking at the time that they had spoken that was displayed. He looked up when Katherine bounded down the stairs. "Drew a cake for Papa!" she said, stopping when she looked at the screen, face falling a little. "Where'd Papa go?" she asked, her expression almost painful for Sherlock. Sherlock sighed, picking her up onto his lap. 

"Oh baby...Papa had to go take care of someone who'd got hurt, it was an emergency. He told me to tell you that he loved you," he said, kissing her temple. "That's a lovely cake," he said, bouncing her on his knee. Katherine pouted a little, looking at her drawing. 

After a minute he stood up, Katherine on his hip. "Why don't we go put on that nice dress Gran Hudson gave you, and do your hair up. We need to catch a cab to meet everyone at the restaurant." he murmured. Katherine nodded as they went upstairs to do that. Restaurant was a loose term, it was really a place that was very child friendly, having a small play area off to the side, which they'd reserved. Several of Katherine's playmates from the daycare were invited, and everyone was coming. Little to be said about Greg and Mycroft, but they'd been invited. Maybe they would show up.

****************************************

April 1

I'm so sorry again for just up and leaving. At least it wasn't for nothing, though. I ended up saving the Private's life. I hope Kat enjoyed the rest of her birthday. I hope it was better than the rest of mine. God, sorry. I don't mean to complain to you. I've only been here a month, but it feels like years already. I don't want to be here any longer. But I don't want to be moved or kicked out or anything like that, either, because I know I'm doing good here. I know I'm saving lives. I think about you all the time. And Katherine. But I would be lying, I think, if I said that it wasn't mostly you. I miss you, Sherlock. So badly. I need you here.   
Sorry. Ignore me, please.  
John  
P.S. I hope you're healthy and that the baby is coming along fine.

April 2  
John, 

Don't ever ask me to ignore you again, John. Not only is it impossible, it is not something I would want to do, ever. You're always in my thoughts, and I know that we're in yours. We took Katty to that kid place and she had a pretty good time I think, though I know she missed you.  You'll be back though, and not too long after her next birthday. I would be there if I could, know that I would John, but it's one of those...rule things, and I can't just leave Katty. Just focus on your work, it will make time pass faster, you saved his life John, you were right, you're needed there. We'll be fine, really love. Everything will work out I promise.

Love,

Sherlock

P.S. We're both fine, soon we'll know just what sex the pup is.

 

April 9  
Sherlock, 

Sorry I haven't been replying, love. It's been hell over here. There have been gunfights and street fights all over the place, and I've been treating so many people that I'm losing count. I've lost twenty-six now, and they just keep coming. Some of them I know, some of them are brand new, fresh off the planes. When I wake in the mornings, I often forget which way is up and which is down. Coffee doesn't help. I started drinking again. Sorry. I'm trying, Sherlock, really, I am.   
God, sorry. Please, distract me. Tell me something good, anything good. How's the baby. Boy or girl??? 

I love you so much,  
John

April 10  
John, 

You've no idea I...god I was so worried. Even just a still here would do. I'm sorry you've lost them John...and that everything is so bad. I've known for a long time just how cruel and monstrous human beings have the capability to be...and now this serves as a bitter reminder. I love you, remember that though, and keep my scarf and Kat's doll close.

Distractions, Katty has kissed that boy at her daycare that she told us about, I think his name was Avery. Apparently he ran away. Being our daughter of course, she pursued him until he returned the favor. Being our daughter...she got what she wanted. And she's declared him her boyfriend. I had my appointment just yesterday actually. Heading into the fourth month, the sex can be determined through a test. which by the way involved a rather large needle, the things I do for you...I swear. 

A distraction...John. I'm writing this with one hand, my other one on my belly actually, still can't believe it. You...we... are going to have a son. And we both love you very much.

Stay safe, always, 

Sherlock.

 

April 29  
Hey, love.

Not much has been going on here, yet again. More of the usual. Wounded soldiers, sick soldiers, playing cards until 3 a.m. with the other doctors. It's a little boring. Or, well, it was until about an hour ago. We (central command, that is) received a bomb threat and an imminent threat of attack. They're sending out three teams, a random draw, and mine got picked. We can't come back until we find what we're looking for, so sorry if my replies are spotty. Start sending hand-written letters. I can send and receive those if I'm in the city.   
I love you, and I'll be safe. You take care of our babies and yourself.  
John

 

April 30

This isn't fair...having to hand-write for one, and the reason for it. John, god you could be anywhere. What I see on the news never happens at hospitals or bases. And now you're not in either of those places. You'd better be safe, find what it is you're looking for and then get back, please. Remember, most large bombs should have an off switch. Statistically speaking if it doesn't, then the person would be carrying the bomb the whole time. God I don't know just...you'd better stay safe. Enclosed are a couple pictures from Katherine, she misses you. I miss you. God knows when this will even reach you. 

I'll take care of us I promise, I'm still eating...most of the time, even though I don't really want to. God knows I don't. Never mind me...I love you.

Sherlock

 

Sherlock mailed the letter, letting out a heavy breath, his hands resting on his stomach. It was so hard. Four months in, he was supposed to be happy, but how could he be? He walked slowly back to Baker street, Mrs. Hudson watching Katherine for him.

 

May 9

I got your letter this afternoon--it's night now, probably around eight p.m. your time. I'm supposed to be sleeping, but I wanted to answer you. I know you're worried, but don't be, sweetheart. I'm fine. This is muscle memory just as much as being in the hospital is. Actually, to be honest with you, by the time I get your next letter, I'll probably be back at base, stitching up the wounded again. We haven't seen anything in our sector; it's been really quiet--almost scary quiet. The place it nearly abandoned. I think it's a poor sector, where the old and the sick live and come to die. It's a bit sad, really.  
You need to eat more than "most of the time." You need to eat all the time. Two meals a day, remember? Fifteen hundred calories, love. Boys grow slower than girls, but they grow muscle faster.  
God, I still can't believe that we're actually having a boy.  
Lots of love forever,  
John  
P.S. Tell Katty that I loved her drawings, and that I look forward to all of her others. She's getting better.

Sighing, John folded up the letter and stuffed it in an envelope, setting it aside to hand off to a different soldier tomorrow to be taken back to base so that it could be mailed. He took out Sherlock's scarf and inhaled deeply, his throat burning as he fought down the urge to cry. He missed his family. Touching the bandage on his arm that he had placed over the cut he had got today--their sector wasn't exactly abandoned--he laid down at long last and rolled over, trying hard to get some sleep.

 

May 17  
John, 

Katherine was happy to hear what you said about her drawings, hasn't really stopped since. I hope this letter finds you back on base and tucked away in your hospital, as a doctor and not as a patient. I love you. I feel like maybe I don't say it enough in my letters. I am eating, and Maria assured me that I am at a healthy enough weight, and that the pup...our son, Hamish. Is healthy as well. After this month there will only be four to go. Mindy has been helpful, you sure you're not writing her as well, telling her what to say to me and what not? I like to think that my own mother might have been this supportive, but I suppose I can never know that. 

I've brought out Katherine's old pram, doing it up in green. I don't like the 'blue for baby boys' nonsense. You wanted me to update you so...I don't want to mention all of it, I'm worried it will only make you feel you are missing more, but I want it to be like you were here as it was happening, getting a nursery made, the infant clothes that seem to be coming from the woodwork they're appearing so quickly. 

I'm not a poet, but I know that spring just means more heat over there. Flowers are starting to bloom here a bit, daffodils primarily. I love those. It still rains so much...wish I could send some over to you. I miss you, and love you always.

Sherlock

 

May 23

We are back in base now, finally. Nothing happened to us until we were coming home, and a guy stopped in front of us, aiming a gun at Jessie and refusing to lower his weapon. He said that he could shoot faster than we could draw our guns, but I called his bluff without my team's knowledge and killed him. Jessie's fine. She needs to get home -- she has a baby girl to get back to.  
I am now sitting in my office, because I have three mountains of paperwork to get through. I don't like being gone for so long; I always have to come back to paperwork. It's bollocks.  
I'm glad you're healthy and keeping busy. Nothing could make me happier than to hear that.  
I do write to Mum and Harry, just not nearly as often as I write to you. I miss you too much.  
Don't worry about anything, love, alright? I'm fine, you're fine, and so is the baby.  
I love you,  
John

 

May 29  
John, 

I decided to send an email since you are back at base and should be able to receive it. God it felt so good to know you're there, that you're safe. Well, safer. Five months, John. Then I'll be able to send pictures and an outfit with his scent and I know that it's not the same as you being there but I can share him with you John. I want to hold our baby, I want you to hold me while I hold him...and we'll be able to. Soon enough. Another month down, getting closer.

God, listen to me, sorry. I've been like this all week, sentimental, emotional. It's tedious. I saved this as a draft and came back to it when I cleared my head. Katherine is well, she once again sends lots and lots of love as she loves to put it. I do too though, lots of love, always.

Sherlock

 

June 30

Hello, love. Different sort of update today. Bit of adrenaline to mix in with the dull throb that my life has been lately.  
The alarms went off today at two thirty-four. We've been on total lock-down mode since that time, and every door has a security check. We're not allowed our guns inside the hospital--we're not allowed any weapons inside the hospital, which really pisses me off and makes me feel unsafe. They're not telling us why they sounded the sirens, but I'm assuming it's because of either a bomber or a gunman--they wouldn't do it for a loose blade.  
Sorry for most likely ruining your day.  
I left the hospital early today. We haven't gotten any new patients because of the lock-down, so I'm sitting in my room right now, armed to the teeth.   
Tell me about you, please. Talk to me about the baby, and Katty. How are they? How are you? God, Sherlock, what's going on at home? Give me something happy.  
Love you,  
John

July 1 

John, you’ve no idea the relief I felt at getting your email. At least until I read it. I really hope that everything is okay. Stay armed, and safe. A month gap…but I heard from you. So first things first, I'm attaching a photo of my belly. Six months, three to go. God, it's scary. You can feel him kick now, inside and out. Katherine just loves it and will sit for the longest time with her hands on my stomach, just waiting. Speaking of pups, they wanted to wait, to see if it stuck, but Greg is nearly three months pregnant. Mycroft is over the moon. I didn't think he would be excited as he is. It's hard to see, in fact I think no one else but myself can tell really. So, looks like Hamish will have a cousin his age. You might even be back in time for when it's born, if not you'll see it within a couple weeks of it being born. Basically, as Katherine puts it, lots and lots of babies. She is, I believe, already preparing for, and I quote, "When Papa and you make me a sister." Good lord, one pup not out of me yet and she's already planning a third. But it's good she's excited.

I love you, 

Sherlock

 

July 5

I had a good laugh at that. Another baby, oh my. What does she think, that we can just snap our fingers and just say, "Alright, baby, grow"? Haha. I miss being a child, sometimes.  
I'm so pleased to hear about Mycroft and Greg. They needed a pup; they've been wanting and trying for so long. They'll be good parents--I hope it's a little girl for them.  
We're still on lock-down here, and they've been putting us on patrols. Apparently there's no one inside, it's that we're trying to keep someone out. So security relaxed a little in the base, but we still can't leave, and those who are outside cannot come back in. I think they got a bomb threat--that's the only thing that makes sense.   
I love you. Talk to you sooner this time, I promise.  
John

July 6

Well she certainly doesn't understand about sex and such. If you should like I can explain it to her, however she tends to repeat things quite a lot these days, and I can't afford to have her kicked out of daycare. I need some time to myself...though I don't really like being by myself, but still.  

I cannot stress again how much I want you to stay safe. Quiet is good...but I don't like the lockdown thing. Can't they just send someone else in to help? 

Always yours, 

Sherlock

July 21

Hey love.  
Base got tired of waiting, so they decided to send out a team to go looking for the bastards who sent the bomb threat. Guess who got the lucky job?  
I'm sorry, love. God, I don't want to go. I'm so pissed off, and I won't be able to talk to you until I get back, and I don't know how ling that's going to take. Take care of yourself, alright, and if I miss the baby being born... send an email anyway. I want to see how delirious you are on the day he's born. Take a video if you can so that I can hear his lungs.   
I'll be safe, don't worry. I'll email you as soon as I get back--probably skype with you.  
I love you so much, Sherlock.  
John

July 22  
John...god, please...don't go, just...say no or something? Email me tomorrow...I don't want to wait. I don't want to see you on the news John...

God, I'm sorry...I shouldn't be...saying things like that. If it makes you feel any better I'm almost always a wreck, crazy hormones. I dropped a slide the other day, cried for nearly two hours. Maria says I'm stressed, and I of course snapped at her telling her that I wasn’t. Don't worry...I apologized. 

I can't tell Katherine about this...you going. She misses you, and I can't tell her you're not safe. I just keep telling her you're going to come home.

Please John...don't make me a liar.

Love always, 

Sherlock

 

John wished that he could have brought his laptop along and still had a wifi connection, but he knew that hope like that was stupid. They really didn't even know where they were going. They were just driving in two Land Rovers, all eight members of his team along, the vehicles far enough apart so that if one exploded, it wouldn't compromise the other. He shook his head, staring out of the window at the sand. 

"Do you ever get sick of it?" Amelia asked suddenly from the driver's seat. John looked over at her, raising his eyebrows. "Get sick of what?" he asked, reaching for his canteen and taking a sip. 

"Being pushed around like a damned game piece." 

John snorted, nearly spitting out his water. "Yeah, Becker. Yeah, I do. All the damned time." 

 

It had been almost a month and a half since he'd heard from John. Sherlock was half mad, at least he felt it, but he hadn't heard from the Army. They would have told him if John was dead or missing in action. Mycroft would have told him. It was a week into September, and Sherlock had taken so many pictures of Katherine on her first day of school, in her small uniform. Pleaded skirt and stockings...he emailed some to John, just as he'd emailed him from time to time, asking, and in one he regretted sending, begging him to respond, even just one word. Katherine was at school, and Sherlock was sitting on the sofa of the flat, hands resting on his swollen belly. They said any day, but he was scheduled for one more week. He was waiting for Mindy, who all but insisted that she was coming over for tea. Demanded more like. So he waited, wondering how Katty was doing in school.

Mindy paid the cabbie and thanked him, knowing that most cab drivers didn't get thanked near enough for what they did. She walked up to the black door of 221b and let herself in, calling up to Sherlock to let him know that it was just her. She climbed the stairs, her hand on the railing for support, and walked into the living room with a smile on her face. She missed her son, but she trusted him and his instincts. She knew that he would be fine. He had to be--he had too many reasons to come back home. "How's he feeling today?" she asked as she hung up her jacket and then walked into the kitchen, starting up the kettle as she had done quite often over the course of the last month.

Sherlock looked up at the door as Mindy walked in, starting tea up like she did every time she came over. "Miserable really, I just sit here all day waiting for Katherine so that I don't have to think," he muttered before realizing that she meant the baby. He sighed, looking down at his belly and rubbing it a little with one hand. "Good I think...he was kicking up a storm last night, hardly let me sleep," though admittedly he hadn't been trying all that hard. "But today he's just...quiet." 

Mindy walked back into the room, helping Sherlock sit up a little and then handing him his tea. "He's saving his energy," she said quietly, rubbing the flat of her palm over Sherlock's back, trying to ease some of the aches that she knew were there. "Takes a lot out of pup, being born," she said with a smile, pulling the young Omega into a half hug. "And it probably doesn't help that you're thinking about John, either. You know that always puts your mood down," she whispered, returning to rubbing his back.

Sherlock sighed, resting the mug of tea on his stomach, which was quite useful as a table these days. He hummed a little as Mindy rubbed his back, leaning into her a bit. "I'm always thinking about John though..." he muttered. "He should be used to it," he said, looking towards John's chair. "I don't want him to save his energy...that just means he's going to come, and I don't want him to. Not without John here..." he said quietly.

Mindy nodded, understanding. "He's coming whether you want him to or not, and whether you're ready for it or not," she said softly, combing her fingers through Sherlock's dark curls, something he was most likely going to pass on to Hamish as well. "It would be best to just accept that John isn't going to be here, but that he's coming back in a few months, and then you probably won't get to hold your son for a good week at least." She smiled a little, dropping her hand and taking Sherlock's in her own. "Everything will be fine, child. I promise."

"Seven months." Sherlock corrected quickly, "He won't be back for nearly seven months. Not a few, and it's not okay. It's not fine!" he protested, leaning into the hand in his hair regardless, wishing that the touch belonged to someone else. He huffed a breath, sipping off of the tea. Tasted just like John made it, well he had to learn from someone he supposed. Sherlock sighed, closing his eyes and returning some of the pressure on Mindy's hand. "I haven't heard from him in so long...I just want something, because...because he is coming, Hamish. And I want to be able to tell him."

 

None of them had seen the strike coming. Air strike, Raptor, radar silent, quick missiles and then gone.

The first Land Rover exploded before John could properly blink. There was fire, sound, a shockwave that rattled their vehicle. John screamed "Right!" on instinct, and Amelia jerked the wheel, enabling them to avoid getting hit by the second missile. But the impacting explosion was too close to keep them unharmed. The vehicle flipped, rolling onto it's right side, over to it's left, and then continuing to flip until it came to a jarring rest on it's right side against a boulder. 

John gasped around his bruised collarbone, blinking his eyes free of the dribble of blood in them. "Check in!" he called, his voice rough and scratchy. Amelia replied, and so did Adam from the back. "Demitri, you hurt?" John asked. There wasn't a reply. "Adam, check on him," he commanded, dropping rank and formality in his shock. 

"He's dead, sir," came Adam's reply a moment later. John swore, reaching for his knife to cut himself loose.

"Sir." Amelia's voice broke his motion, directing his attention to her. "We have company," she said quietly, and John followed her frozen gaze to the windshield, and the muzzle of the rifle being pointed at him.

 

It was two days to the due date. Was being the operative word here. Sherlock woke up in the early morning with a sharp pain in his abdomen, feeling his stomach clench and contract. He let out a noise, gasping as he clutched his middle. It passed soon enough, leaving him gasping, his eyes turning to look at the pillow, John's pillow, that he'd been clutching. It wasn't supposed to be empty when this happened. He picked up his phone and rang the only person he could. "It...please, it's happening," he panted, sitting up and getting to his feet before it started hurting again. He walked into the living room, seeing his and Katherine's bags on the floor, ready for when it did happen. This early in the morning...Christ. Katherine would be staying with Harry, that was the plan, he just hoped Mindy would take care of that. 

Mindy picked up on the first ring of her phone--being a mother of two, she was a light sleeper--and was immediately out of bed and throwing on clothes. "I'm on my way. Hang up and just focus on breathing. Let Katherine sleep--Mrs. Hudson's home, so she'll be fine until Harry gets there. You just worry about getting yourself to the hospital. I'm closer, so I'll meet you by the doors, alright?" She kept her voice calm and smooth, in control and knowing. Once she had an affirmation from Sherlock, she hung up, and finished dressing, dialing Harry's number before walking to the street to catch a cab.

 

John blinked his eyes open, finding himself in a dimly lit room. He had been knocked out with the butt of a rifle as soon as the nine men--Afghani, by the sound of their voices--had pulled him and his remaining team members from the vehicle. He groaned, rolling his head a little and having pain shoot through his temple. A quick assessment of himself showed that his arms were bound tightly behind his back and numb, and that he was sitting back against a wall. He felt otherwise unharmed, minus the bruised collarbone from the car crash. 

"Oh, good," said a heavy middle-eastern accented voice, "you awake now too."

"John, what's going on?" Amelia's voice. John turned to his left, seeing her and Adam beyond. John shook his head, turning to stare forward again. 

"I don't know. Hostage situation?" he guessed, because it seemed likely. They had probably found their bombers.

"John... Watson..." John turned when he heard a distinctly American voice say his name, and found himself staring at a taller man with reddish brown hair, holding a pair of dog tags dangling between his fingers. "That's what these say. And your rank, and your platoon, and that you're a doctor. But your name..." The man lunged forward, wrapping his fingers in John's hair and yanking his head back so that it slammed against the wall. "Where have I heard it before?"

"John, what's he talking about?" 

"Shut her up," the man snapped, and an Afghani man walked over and hit Amelia hard across the face with his fist. The auburn haired man kept eye contact with John as he slowly flipped up one of his pockets and pulled out Sherlock's scarf. "Can't imagine how lucky I am, John," he whispered, "finding exactly the man I was looking for, out here in the middle of a desert."

 

Sherlock pocketed his phone, pulling on a dressing gown and looking up the stairs towards Katherine's room. He didn't want to leave her, she had to stay safe. But Harry knew Mrs. Hudson would let her in. He lifted the bag and shakily went downstairs, hailing a cab and snapping at them to take him to Bart's. He winced as he cramped up again, groaning a bit as he took out his phone again.

September 10  
John, he's coming. Now....Christ it hurts. On my way to Bart's. I want so bad to ask you to meet me there....please John be there. I want you there so bad...I hope you're safe. 

Please be safe...for us.

Sherlock

 

The driver sensed the urgency and got Sherlock there in record time, and he climbed out of the cab, almost forgetting the bag. 

Mindy met Sherlock at the doors and helped him inside, asking a nurse to call Doctor Maria. They were saved having to wait when Sherlock went into another contraction, saying that it was less than five minutes from the last, and they were quickly escorted to a birthing room.

Sherlock was helped into a gown by a nurse, who had to poke him four times just to get a line into him. He was helped onto the bed, and asked to roll on his side. Christ, epidurals, helpful he supposed but still painful, and it still hurt even with them. He looked over at John's mother who was in a gown, sitting down per protocol. He reached out and clung onto her hand, his breathing uneven, heart rate showing on the monitor. He looked towards the doors, "Y-you should be here..." he said quietly, wincing at the pinch of pain in his back. He whimpered a little, another contraction hitting him, spinal would hardly have time to work at this rate.

Mindy clung tightly to Sherlock's hand, telling him to breathe, in through his nose and out through his mouth, slow and steady. Her heart clenched when Sherlock begged for John, but there were many army mates who had given birth without their Alphas, and she knew that Sherlock was strong enough to do this.

It took too long, the contractions staying that distance apart, as if Hamish was waiting for something. It had been three hours, felt like three years. Sherlock curled his toes, fists clenching though he did his best not to hurt Mindy. "God! Hurry it up, he's not coming!" he snapped, as if that's what the pup was waiting for. Maybe he was waiting too. He felt himself tighten up again right after the last one ended and he cried out a bit, a sheen of sweat coating his skin. 

"Right, you're dilated, now Sherlock listen to me," Maria said, "Just like last time...on the next one, push," she ordered gently. Sherlock let out a shaky breath, terrified that something was going to be wrong, what if he bled out like last time? He hadn't got to hold Katherine, he just wanted to hold him... He cried out, pushing when directed, and then again, and again. 

He didn't know how long it took, but everything seemed to freeze when he heard that first, shrill cry that filled the room. Sherlock blinked a few times, his mouth hanging open as he saw the small, bloodied new born being held up. His eyes moved straight to the head, seeing the light hair, darkened from various fluids...but it was light. "It's a boy!" he heard, watching as they took him over to be looked over, a cap being put on his head. Seemingly in a blur he was brought over, and laid onto Sherlock's chest, his arms going straight up to hold the small bundle. He looked at the small pup, not crying anymore, quiet. He felt something damp on his face but ignored it, too busy staring down at his son. Their son...their Hamish. "You're Papa should be here...he wanted to be here..." he said quietly. 

 

"And why would you want to find me?" John asked, eyeing Sherlock's scarf and wondering how the man had known where it had been stashed. Did he know the significance of it? Who it belonged to?

The man, who John had now properly identified as an Alpha, reached into another pocket and pulled out Katherine's doll. "You're quite the predictable man, John Watson," he said, tilting John's head to the side to expose his neck. One bite, one cut, and he would be killed. "Which is why I won't even ask you what I want answered. You won't answer me, and we'll have to go through this anyway."

The man released John and backed away, wiping at his hands. "Get him up," he said, pointing to John, who was then immediately yanked to his feet with a sharp knife pressed against his throat. "Them, on their knees." Amelia and Adam were pulled forward and shoved to their knees beside each other. "I changed my mind. On their fronts." A booted foot kicked each of the soldiers forward until they fell onto their stomachs, and John could hear their breaths knock out of them.

"What are you doing to them?" John demanded, pulling against the arms and hands restraining him. "Leave them alone!" The auburn-haired man ignored him, yelling something in Arabic over his shoulder. John watched Amelia struggle and Adam go slack, the young man obviously suffering from his injuries. A solid form moved along the edge of John's vision, and he turned, his eyes widening at the muscular man walking towards the remaining members of his team. "Amelia..." John said, turning his head back toward his second in command. He knew that she had seen the axe, same as he had, and she lifted her eyes to find his.

"Find my mum. Give her my things and tell her I love her?" John nodded rapidly, his muscles tightening as the axe was lifted. "I will," he promised, giving her as much of a solute that he could before the axe fell. It took two hits to decapitate each of them, and he knew that they felt it all.

He wanted to scream, to kick at the wall, to kill everyone here. But at the same time he just wanted to curl up in the corner and cry until it made him sick, and then keep crying until he was out of tears to cry. He couldn't do either, so he stayed blank-faced, staring down at his dead friends and the blood slowly pooling around them.

"Take him into the other room. Get him ready," the auburn-haired man instructed, wiping off his hands as if he was the one who had just done the killing. One of the men holding John jerked on his arm, pulling him away and through a doorway.

John hadn't had a bag thrown over his head, he hadn't been knocked out. He had simply been led into the room, just over the threshold, and stripped of his gear. He watched it drop to the floor until he was standing in a thin tan t-shirt and his camouflage trousers, the pockets emptied. His boots and socks had been taken off too, and he figured out why as soon as he was led forward, and his feet splashed in a small amount of water, barely an inch deep. He was forced into a thin metal chair--bolted to the ground. He couldn't rock it--and his harms and legs were bound to it. 

They never taught soldiers how to survive torture sessions, how to prepare yourself and gather your wits again after being electrocuted. He wished, then, that they would have, because he wasn't an idiot, like Sherlock so often teased him to be. 

Oh, Sherlock. I'm so sorry, love. I know you've got to be due soon, and I'm missing it, I'm missing all of it, and I don't think I'm making it home. Sherlock, please. Take care of the kids. Forgive me.

"You know what's going to happen to you?" The auburn-haired man stepped into the dim room, flipping a switch that cast bright light directly at John, who nodded. "Good. We'll start small. I have an assortment of knives, blunt instruments, heavy instruments. I could break your knees, if you like. Rip out your fingernails slowly one by one. And then, if you're lucky, when you tell me what I want, I'll kill you. Understood?" John nodded tightly, staring hard at the man. "Good. Let's begin, then."

 

Sherlock hardly remembered being moved from recovery into their more permanent room for their brief stay. He was too busy looking at Hamish. God...he was perfect. Being a newborn he only wanted to sleep and eat, and after Sherlock fed him the first time the small pup got a dozey look that just achingly reminded Sherlock of the sleepy look John got when he relaxed after a day at work. Sherlock didn't want to relinquish him for anything, and didn't feel comfortable letting anyone else hold him. He was the same with Katherine, he'd only let John hold her, nurses he allowed under protest. Only this time he didn't have John. 

Harry brought Katherine by later that day, and the four-year-old tip toed into the room, obviously having been told to be quiet. Sherlock scooted over on the bed, allowing her to lay next to him. "S'that my brother?" she asked in a low whisper. Sherlock smiled, nodding. Katherine held him for nearly an hour as Sherlock held her with one arm wrapped around her, one hand resting on the swaddled newborn. And yet...his happiness was diminished a bit, tarnished by his mate’s absence. John should be there, at the very least John would and should have written him, with Hamish due around this time...not hearing anything...it made Sherlock feel almost physically sick from worry.

 

September 11

He was born yesterday John...god he's beautiful. Perfect, just how you wanted. Light hair, but it's short...too soon to tell if it's going to curl. He's so small, but not too small, but I just forgot how small they are. I want you here, it's not fair that you're not. You'll be so happy to see him though, it'll be worth it in the end right? [Image attached]

September 18  
Just over a week old, John it's been a while since I heard from you. I check the post everyday. Nothing. Mycroft hasn't said anything to me, but he's been busy himself with Greg. He's almost at six months. It's a girl apparently, so some of Katherine's baby things will go there. I'm afraid that...maybe he intercepted any letter the army would have sent but...he wouldn't do that. Right?

September 24  
Katherine loves him, Mrs. Hudson, Mindy...everyone. They're so happy despite it all. I'm trying, and it was easier at first, when he first came...to be happy. But lately...I don't know what it is. Can't sleep much, and I have such a short fuse it seems. And then...it never happened before with Katherine, but I was holding him...and I thought, 'What if I just dropped him?' It horrified me, thinking something like that...about Hamish I don't...I don't understand. You would know...you're a doctor. And I've stopped going to mine. 

Mrs. Hudson comes up and helps...your mum....I feel like she sees something wrong with me, I don't like how she looks at me. She always knows, and I hate it. I hate everything almost, but most of all I hate myself...because sometimes I hate him. And I don't want that. Please  John....just a word, please.

 

John hadn't slept now in three days. He was exhausted, suffering from blood loss, and he had minor hearing loss in his left ear. He was hoping that it was temporary, and that his cochlea hadn't been affected. He hadn't eaten in six days, and he could feel his body starting to shut down. cuts covered him, marred him, blood dripped into his eyes. His shoulder had been dislocated and then relocated, his knee dislocated and left there. He had lost track of the number of times he had been shocked. 

A hand fisted in his hair and pulled his head up, but he was too weak to even look the other man in the eyes. "Will you talk now?" the auburn-haired man asked. This was the third time he had asked. John shook his head. "Fuck off," he grunted, not even knowing the question that he was supposed to be answering, but damned if he was going to talk to someone who had just spent two weeks torturing him. John's hair was released and his head dropped back to his chest again.

"Sir!" 

John looked up at the frightened voice, eyeing the Afghani man. 

"There are choppers, sir. British choppers. Not far."

The auburn-haired man looked from the Afghani to John, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not through with you," he snarled, walking forward and cupping John's chin in a bruising grip. "Remember my face, because I'm coming back for you. And I'm keeping these," he said, holding up Sherlock's scarf and Katherine's doll. You have a fine taste in men, John Watson. But then, so do I." He bit at John's lip and licked up the blood before they all fled the building.

John sagged in the chair, consciousness falling from him.

 

October 10

One month today. Still not a word. Katherine's gone quiet, doesn't really talk to me. I'm trying, John really I am, I don't know what's wrong with me. I put on a mask, smile with her, ask her how her school went, what she did that day...but god if she isn't your daughter. She can see right though it. I don't want her to, I don't want her to be sad. Hamish is good, still so quiet, but he fusses sometimes in the middle of the night. I don't sleep much anyway so it's not really a problem.

Mycroft has visited a few times, and I wonder...something is wrong isn't it? That's why you're not writing. That's why he cares more. He said he just needs the practice for when his own pup comes along but I wonder... I'm afraid that he's going to try and take them away from me..I don't want him to. I'm trying...I'm still eating to feed him, but I'm not making enough and we have to supplement with formula. And I'm doing my best, I don't know why it's so hard. And then there are the thoughts...god they're tedious. I want them to go away. I don't want to think things like that. Starting to wonder why I'm still sending these...I love you.

SH

 

John woke up in a hospital with too much noise and too many drips and IVs attached to him. He knew why, and he still hurt, despite the morphine levels he knew had to be pumping through him. "Sherlock..." he groaned, turning instead to see one of the doctors that he had come to know. She told him how lucky he was to be alive, that they found him barely hanging on, but he didn't hear any of it. He didn't care. "I want my computer," he demanded, and he wouldn't hear another word or take any medication--even going as far as threatening to disconnect his IVs--until she finally agreed. 

John's heart inflated and slowly started breaking as he read Sherlock's emails, recognising the symptoms immediately. He didn't blame Mycroft for thinking about wanting to take the kids away, especially if Sherlock was a volatile as he was claiming to be. He quickly clicked the reply button and typed out a response as best as he could.

October 14  
Oh my god, Sherlock, you did it. A boy. Jesus. And you said he has blond hair. Does he have my mannerisms or yours? Your eyes or mine? I wish I could have been there, and I'm so sorry for not replying. I didn't mean to scare you--I only just got back. I'm alright, I can reply now so long as I keep my messages short. Doctor's orders.   
You have symptoms of PPD, and you need to go to a therapist and get that talked about. Please, Sherlock. A lot of Omegas end up killing their babies when they suffer from this, and then they kill themselves from the regret of it. You can't do that; I can't lose you again.   
I need to go, love, but it's me, I'm alright. I'm mending. I'm coming home soon, okay? Just hold on for me, and please get that looked after.   
I love you so much, and congratulations, my lovely fiancé.  
John

Sherlock sighed, sitting back against the wall and butting his head against it a little, fingers woven up into his hair. Perhaps hitting his brother had not been the best idea, as he was now seeing fit to punish him. It wasn't real, none of that letter was. Call it an exercise...he often thought up ways he'd kill people...that was just something he did. So...he made up a list of what he'd do to himself. Could do, and organized it in difficulty and then pain/awareness levels. An exercise, nothing more. He was never actually planning to do it. Not that that mattered for his nosy landlady. 

Mycroft and Greg came by that day, Sherlock had been in the bathroom when he got Katherine, and Sherlock had come out to see Greg holding Hamish, an apologetic look on his face. They said only for a few days, while Sherlock got help, it was during the fight he had with his brother, which didn't go well, that his phone went off. 

He didn't hear it, to busy shouting and cursing at his brother, saying things he would later regret probably. He couldn't think, as soon as Greg took Hamish downstairs Sherlock lost it completely. He didn't exactly remember after that, only coming to in an isolation room, probably in a hospital. Mycroft stayed long enough to say that the children were with Mindy. Sherlock ignored him after that, and everyone else.

October 31

Sherlock? Love, are you there? I thought I would have heard from you weeks ago. What's going on? I'm starting to get worried now. Please... please write back to me. I know it's not fair of me to beg this of you after the pain that you've gone through, but Sherlock, please... god, please...  
I love you, and I would give anything to hear your voice again.  
John

He sighed, shutting down the computer as the doctor came in for more tests and another painful tetanus shot. "You got a letter today. Two of them, actually," she said as she stabbed him with the thick needle. John winced, but he looked up at her, meeting her brown eyes. "Yeah? From whom?" She took two envelopes from her pocket and handed them over. "Read for yourself."

John did. The first was from his commanding Major, telling him that he was being officially discharged from service with assurance from the Queen herself that he wouldn't have to return. A sigh of relief left him at that, and he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the news sink in before moving on to the second letter. It was from Mycroft. He read through it quickly--too quickly--and ended up missing things, so he had to read it thrice more. He pulled out his computer again and sent the elder Holmes brother an email, saying that he supported the idea, but that Sherlock needed to be told and assured that John was alive. He suggested giving Sherlock a computer so that they could skype. He knew how bad he looked, but he figured that it would be better than nothing.  

***  
Sherlock could feel himself going mad, he could. He thought maybe he'd been going mad before, with the things he sometimes thought, but this was actual madness he felt. They wouldn't let him go, wouldn't let him see his children. He just wanted Hamish back. He wanted to hold his son...god it had been two weeks...roughly. Mindy came and visited, they said they wouldn't allow the children back. It wasn't fair...he spat cruel deductions at the orderlies but they ignored him mostly, and with each passing day he became more bitter. He'd had his son a month and took him away, a month! 

Finally, though Mycroft came by, giving him his computer. Sherlock furrowed his brow, his brother leaving wordlessly. He knew Sherlock wouldn't talk to him. Sherlock turned on his lap top, knees curled to his chest. As he booted it up skype turned on but he let that alone, no point really...he only had one contact. He stared at the screen, afraid to even check his email.

John had his computer on his lap when he saw that Sherlock's computer was turned on. He immediately pressed the call button, adjusting the screen so that the camera was pointed at him better, so that Sherlock would have no doubt that it was him. He had barely blinked before his mate's face was taking up his screen. John beamed, a happy sob falling from him. "Sherlock, oh, god," he whispered, taking in everything and worrying over the stress lines around his eyes. "Oh, love..."

Sherlock shook himself a little when he heard the skype call tone, his brows furrowing a little when he pressed talk. He froze, looking at the screen to see a very familiar...and bruised face. Black eye, laceration just on his hairline, a bit of a wire on his upper chest, heart monitor. He took in all of that, but was stock still the entire time, not even blinking as he looked at the screen, his brows staying furrowed slightly in confusion. That...how was that right?

John's smile slipped away when he saw the confusion on Sherlock's face, and he ached to reach out and touch him, to do anything to comfort him. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, blinking away tears. He had to control his heart or the doctor would come in and end the call. "I'm not dead though, Sherlock. I'm not. I told you I was coming home. I keep my promises. You haven't been holding up your end of the deal," he accused lightly.

Sherlock reached out one hand and touched the screen, touching John's face lightly. He swallowed, taking in a shuddering breath. "You...I waited I...your face..." he said quietly, his voice cracking from disuse. "I...they took them away from me...I was, I was fine. I took care of them," he said, defending himself quickly. "Please...John I, I took care of them, they were fine, I tried and they took them away!" he said, voice cracking a bit as he hid his face in his knees, suddenly ashamed at the state of himself. He didn't think that he'd be faced with John. "It's been...w-weeks. They won't...let me see him!" he said, sobbing into his knees.

John swallowed, knowing that Sherlock wanted someone on his side, someone to baby him and talk him gently through it. But that's not what John was for, and that wasn't what Sherlock needed. "You're suffering from PPD and you're refusing medical help, even though you're in a facility that could easily provide it for you. Why? You're intelligent. Far above the rest of us idiots, but there you are, complaining that they took our son away from you, and you're not doing anything? Sherlock, what the hell?" He didn't yell, because yelling would make his heart rate increase, and he couldn't have that. "I went through two solid weeks of torture that you cannot even begin to imagine, even after the shit that you went through after your fake death. And I did not go through it so that I could be discharged permanently and return home to a fiancé locked up in a hospital and two emotionally scarred children."

Sherlock flinched, feeling like John was shouting at him, he probably was really. Sherlock bit down on his lip, choking out another sob. "I was fine! Hamish and Katherine were fine!" he said, though he knew that wasn't true. Maybe Hamish was fine, but Katherine had known something was wrong with him. "I...I'm sorry John...I'm s-so sorry..." he said, shaking his head a little. This wasn't fair, John was right. He couldn't even do this...god he was pathetic. "Please...I'm s-sorry John." he said, peering up a little to see John's expression. It felt like a knife to his chest. "I-I'll f-fix it...this just...please, please come home? Wh-when...when are you coming home?" he asked.

John reached out and touched the screen, wishing that he could actually touch Sherlock. He felt his Omega's pain, felt his loss, his heartache, because it was his own as well. "I don't know, love," he said quietly. "I'm not healed, yet. They've got me on all the medications that they can without causing me more harm, but not everything can be treated with that. They're mostly worried about my heart right now, but everything else is just as bad. Some infections... there was blood poisoning, but it's gone now. I'll be home before Kat's birthday, though. I promise. Just please, Sherlock, please. Let them treat you. It won't take long; it's not an uncommon occurrence. Please, love, I'm begging you. I don't want to see you like this."

Sherlock swallowed thickly, letting out a shaky breath when John said what was wrong with him. He wet his lips, fingers still on his screen. "I p-promise." he said, choking up a bit again. His forehead creased a little, "John...what did they do to you?" he asked quietly, thinking in the back of his mind that Kat's birthday was still almost five months away. 

John lowered his eyes for a moment, looking down at what Sherlock couldn't see, the cuts and bruises, the mottled skin and burn marks that wouldn't go away for awhile. "Everything," he whispered, finally raising his eyes, and there were tears in them. "They killed my friends in front of me. Decapitation. They electrocuted me, cut me, hit me, starved me, dehydrated me, suffocated me. Dislocated some of my joints. Broke my toes. Burned me." He shook his head, too much pain coming forth from talking about it. 

Sherlock's breath caught in his throat and he wanted to be out of that room, he wanted to be with John, taking care of him, watching him hold their son. He swallowed, "Oh God...John." he said, "Why? Why would they...what did they want?" he asked, feeling sick. He had to get out of there. 

John shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered, breathing deeply through his nose to calm his heart. "He never said. He never even got to ask me the question that he wanted to, because I wouldn't talk. But he... he knew me. He knew my name. He singled me out, and I don't know what that means."

Sherlock tried to think, the wonder what that meant. John didn't have enemies, only the ones that were earned by the wearing of his uniform and his association to...to him. So it was one of the two. Either it was just that John had held rank in the British army, or it came down to Sherlock. In which case...this was his fault. "I'm getting out of here...I am John, I promise. And then...I'm getting you home. Transferred, when you're well enough. And don't argue it with me...please? I need you closer." 

John sighed, but he would do anything to get Sherlock out of there and better, to get their pups back into his care. "Just focus on yourself first. No more self-loathing. Focus your damned energy on getting better, please, and then you can focus on me, alright? I'm safe here, and I'm getting care here. So until you're better, I'm not going anywhere, and I already told that to Mycroft. It's what I'm dangling over your head. You don't get me until you're one hundred percent better, understand?"

Sherlock blinked a couple times. "You're talking to Mycroft?" he said, narrowing his eyes. "That's not fair!" he said. "How am I supposed to be one hundred percent anything with you gone?" he said. "And don't talk to him! He took them away; he took our son away!" he snapped. He did that a lot, snap. Short fuse that he hated, and it always ended with him in a pout.

"He took him away because you weren't caring for him or our daughter properly, Sherlock," John reprimanded calmly. He knew better than to snap back, and he had a lot of patience lately. "And you're getting one hundred percent better, or you're not getting out of there, and I won't be home until early March. Understood?" he asked, his voice solid.

Sherlock's brows were furrowed, emotions churning in him. He shouldn't be angry at John, but he was. It wasn't fair, none of it was. And he was taking care of them, he was! He swallowed, "Fine!" he snapped, closing the lid to his computer and ending the call. He got up and paced the room furiously, smacking the door once and tugging at his hair a couple times. He looked back at his computer, part of him wanting to call John back right away. He shut down that thought, John needed rest anyway and he had to prove he wasn't mad. After he had calmed he walked up to his door and called through the small opening, asking that he be taken to his assigned therapist.

John whimpered at the suddenly blank screen. He left his computer on for long minutes after, hoping that Sherlock would call back, wanting to see him again, just a glimpse, but he got nothing. Not even the signal that said his mate was online. John closed the lid to his computer slowly, setting it aside before he finally let himself cry huge, racking sobs that tore through his chest and made his throat ache. He heard his heart monitor give a few warning sounds, but he paid them no head. He needed to cry, he needed to get it out. Barely any time later, a nurse came in and patted his arm, injecting something into an IV, and he blacked out, drifting uneasily into unconsciousness.

 

It took almost a week until they let Sherlock out, insisting on weekly appointments for at least a month, then they would discuss, as well as anti-depressants. It wasn't as if he would still be feeding Hamish anyway, he'd dried up already and the pup was probably well used to formula by now. He had tried skype a few times but John was never online. Finally sitting in his room about to be discharged he sent an email. 

November 6  
John...I'm sorry for not emailing sooner. And for hanging up like I did. I tried to call later but I never saw you online. You were right, about me I...I wasn't taking care of them, because I wasn't taking care of myself. I was being selfish, as my shrink tells me not to put it, but I was. I cared more about you not being there than I did about them being there. That mixed with hormonal imbalance....not a good mix as it turns out. I'm going home today, stopping by your mothers first to get them. He's almost two months old now, I've missed three weeks...god, he's probably huge. You did get that picture I sent in one of my emails? Before I went mad...anyway. I'll send another shall I? Do you think maybe you're up for skyping with Katherine or...do you think it will only worry her? I hope you're doing better and...thank you. For not...for not being gentle...I didn't need or deserve it. Love, always.

Sherlock

***

"Daddy!" Katherine ran over to him and Sherlock wrapped his arms around her, picking her up off the floor. "Katty! Oh my beautiful, wonderful, intelligent girl...God I missed you." he said, clutching onto her tightly. "Gran said you were sick...you better Daddy?" she asked quietly, pulling away to look at him. He gave her a small smile. 

"Getting there," he said. "Better enough to come home." he said, walking into the living room where a small cry drew his attention and pulled at his heart strings.

Harry stood up and brought Hamish over, and Sherlock set down Katherine, taking the fussing, slightly bigger infant into his arms. He felt something in his chest loosen as he nuzzled against his son's cheek, taking in his scent, a small sob bubbling up in his chest as he smiled a little. "Hamish...oh baby, I'm so sorry," he said, touching the small, round cheeks. His small fingers closed around one of Sherlock's, and the infants fussing stopped instantly. "Oh...so now he settles, you know I've had a hell of a time with that one...he missed you," Harry said with a small smile. Sherlock looked up at her, and Mindy. "Thank you...for taking care of them...when I couldn't." he said.

****  
November 8

Oh, love, that's fantastic! I'm so sorry that I haven't been online, and don't worry about not calling back... it's fine, it's alright. Mycroft called me when they released you, and they've been prepping me for flight. He's moving me to Bart's, so that I'll be closer to you. I don't get to leave for another week, but I'm not complaining.  
I don't think skyping with Katherine would be a good idea. She'll handle it better in person, I know, because she knows what injuries are. Thank god she got that from me.  
Don't degrade yourself, love. You deserve more than what I can give you, you really do. It's not your fault, and I'm glad you're better.  
Please send another picture, I would love to see him again. I can't wait to hold him. I can't wait to hold you.  
I still have a lot more testing and prepping to do, so I won't be talking for the rest of the week, but if you send the picture, I'll see it.  
I love you so much. Give the kids kisses and hugs for me.  
John

 

November 10  
I wanted to send something back right away, but I decided to wait, let you rest. God...five days, you're coming home. Well to London at any rate. I've told Katty that you're coming home sooner than we thought, which has her happy. I told her that you got hurt, but that you're getting better. She's worried naturally, probably thinks she'd be a better nurse than the ones you've got. 

God I want to see you, your bedding, and jumpers....they smell like you, but it's not the same. It's empty. Did you feel that way? With the scarf and doll? Do you still have those even? God...feels like ages ago. Here is a picture from today, Katherine and Hamish, she loves holding him, four years, seven months, and one week, and two months of age respectively.

Love from all of us, 

Sherlock

John smiled at the picture that he had saved on his laptop, running his fingers over Kat's and Hamish's faces as they loaded him onto the jet that would take him back to London. It was one of Mycroft's jets, naturally. "You have lovely children," one of the on-flight nurses comment. "Thank you," John smiled, shutting down his computer as the jet doors were closed. "Am I going to be on oxygen the whole way?" he asked, and was rewarded with a smile and a nod. John gave a small sigh of relief, lifting his head a little for the thin tube and then sitting still as she adjusted the little nubs so that they were by his nose. "Just relax, and we'll be landing in seven and a half hours," she assured him.

****  
Sherlock rocked Hamish gently, smiling a little despite himself. John would be landing soon. That meant he got to see him soon. Soonsoonsoon... Hamish cooed a little, pulling his mouth from the bottle that Sherlock had been holding for him. "What...done already?" he asked, looking at the empty bottle. "Good lord, going to eat us out of house and whatever else is in the expression I deleted is," he said quietly, stroking his soft cheek a little again before setting the infant up on his chest to burp him. Katherine had already been sent off to school, and Harry was picking her up after, waiting for Sherlock's text to say whether or not John could see her. But one way or another, Sherlock was seeing him today. He got the text around midday saying that John was situated in a room and Sherlock got a cab and made his way to Bart's.

John was exhausted by the time he landed, and his body was demanding that he sleep, and that he do it immediately and for a long time, but he needed to see Sherlock. He needed that more than sleep, and certainly more than painkillers. He had the bed inclined just enough so that he was partially sitting, enabling him to hold Hamish if Sherlock would let him.

Sherlock was holding Hamish close as he walked through the hospital, going to the room he'd been told John was in. He hesitated, swallowing thickly as he looked at the closed door. What if he wasn't in there, what if he was? He could be asleep...perhaps he should check? What if he was asleep, did he wake him? No, of course not, he needed sleep. To get better...he had to get better. Then he could come home. He stood there for a little, a small coo coming from Hamish which brought Sherlock back to the present.  
"You're right...should just go in there." he murmured, silently nudging the door open. Hamish had waited two months and five days for this...he wouldn't make his son wait anymore, and god knew he was done waiting as well. He stepped inside, closing the door and stepping up to the curtain that was partially closed. He peeked out, to see John, bandaged and battered still, but of much better colour, some of the lines a bit more faded. He let out a breath, smiling as he stepped closer. "J-John?" he asked quietly, John's eyes shut.

John blinked his eyes open, having accidentally fallen asleep. He turned, looking up at someone he thought he wouldn't ever see again. "Oh, love," he whispered, reaching out slowly and grabbing his free hand. His eyes flickered from Sherlock's face for a moment, latching onto the little blond baby in his arms, and he choked on a sob. "Is that..." our son? He was afraid to say it, afraid that somehow it wasn't true and that he would get his hopes up.

Sherlock's heart clenched when he saw John stir, and his eyes pulled open. He smiled a bit, a watery grin spreading on his face. He reached up and touched John's face, which was covered with a fine later of scruff. He nodded, rocking Hamish a little. "It is," he said, removing his hand from John’s face and stroking Hamish's cheek. The infant cooed, one of his small arms flailing out of his swaddle. "Just a minute," he murmured, walking down to the foot of John's bed and setting Hamish down as he undid his blanket, which had a swatch of John's pillow case sewn into it, courtesy of Mindy. He rubbed the infants belly to wake him up a little against the infant’s protests.  
"Trust me Mish...you want to be awake." he said, almost crying a little, but he was smiling, very much smiling. He lifted him up, looking at John. "Do you...you want to hold him?" he asked hesitantly.

John almost sobbed when Sherlock walked away, wanting to demand that he come back, but then he stopped at the foot of the bed and he stopped his protest before it came out. He nodded slowly, still unable to really move too much, and reached out for his son, who looked a lot like his own baby pictures. His smile widened when Sherlock settled him into his arms, and he ignored the few tears that ran down his cheeks. "Hello, Hamish," he whispered, touching the tip of his finger to his son's palm. "I've been waiting a long time to see you."

Hamish wriggled a little in the unfamiliar arms for a moment before settling. He was wide awake now and looked up at John with wide eyes that were the standard baby blue, but looked as if they might brighten to mirror Sherlock's. The infant's finger closed around John's finger and he cooed audibly. Sherlock smiled, tears threatening. 

"I kept that bit if your scent sewn into his blanket...he recognizes you." He said, hiccupping a bit.

John leaned over against Sherlock, nuzzling against him. "I'm afraid that this isn't real," he whispered. "I'm afraid that I'm just unconscious, and when I wake up, I'm going to be out in that bloody desert again." He moved his finger a little, waving Hamish's hand. "I don't want to wake up, Sherlock. If this isn't actually happening, then I don't want to wake up." He looked up from their son's bright eyes and found Sherlock's, appreciating their depth, their mirage of color. 

Sherlock smiled again, leaning over and inhaling into John's hair. He let out a half pained, half joyous sound. "You are not asleep...you're not in that place, never again John Watson, do you hear me?" he said, looking down at Hamish who made a loud noise, one that said he wanted attention. Only two months old and so demanding...where Katherine had taken on John's kindness and empathy, Hamish it seemed took more after Sherlock's temperament. Sherlock sighed, resting his hand on Hamish's bundle. "Now hush my Mish, your Papa only just got you...you can wait a moment." he murmured, knowing he was hungry.

"It's fine, Sherlock," John whispered, handing Hamish back to Sherlock. "I shouldn't be holding him, anyway. I'm really not strong enough, and I don't want to drop him." He laid back in the bed, resting his head on the pillow and closing his eyes for a moment. "I lost your scarf, and Kat's doll," he whispered, swallowing thickly around the lie. "I haven't had your scent since about halfway through my mission. God, I've missed it."

"You wouldn't drop him." Sherlock said, holding Hamish close to his chest with one arm. He lifted up his red scarf and draped it around John's neck gently. "There." he said, sitting on a chair after pulling it flush to John's bed. He wanted to climb into the bed with him, but he didn't know if he'd hurt anything. Reaching into a bag he had he pulled out a bottle that had been wrapped in a flannel. Still warm, that was good. He swirled it around to stir it up again without adding air bubbles and started to feed the infant, who's fist was shoved in his mouth as he sucked on it, indicating he was hungry. It was the quiet indication...the loud one...well John would be introduced to that later. 

"You'll have it now...whenever and however much you want." he said, his eyes on John. His facial hair grew in patches a bit, thicker in some places, it was no wonder he never grew it out...the mustache though, good lord that was thick. "I would say the desert aged you John, but really I think it's the ferret on your upper lip that's done it." he said with a grin. Truth was John did look older, weathered, but that would go away a bit with time, most of it anyway.

John rolled his eyes, nuzzling into Sherlock's scarf a little. "Yes, well, I can't shave, and the nurses haven't offered to do it for me. Was that you offering to do it?" he teased, watching Hamish suck on the bottle. "He looks like me, but he's definitely still you," he said softly. "Louder child than Kat, yeah?" he asked, smiling a little at Sherlock.

"Well when you can shave again, it goes or I'll do it in your sleep." he murmured, rocking Hamish as he sucked the bottle down quickly. "God yes, louder. Katherine was so quiet, hardly fussed over anything other than a nappie change or a bottle. This one, no...god, any little thing. Temperature needs to be just so, or he isn't positioned just right...and for the record I think that makes him more you. You said that you were a loud child, I wasn't." he murmured with a soft smile. "Guess they switched, because I'm the temperamental one now."

John chuckled. "Well thank god there are two of us. We can trade off if we need to." He sighed, wincing a little as he shifted on the bed and then sagged back into the mattress. "Is Katty coming?" he asked, boosting the morphine just a little. "I'm assuming that she's at school now."

Sherlock smiled, nodding, though he felt an ache when he saw John's pain. "She is, I'll message Harry, tell her to bring her round if you're up to it. She does so well in school, and your mother said that she was a doctor for Halloween." he said with a small smile, looking at John. She sent me a picture, here." he said, pulling out his phone and showing John. "Granted...she was a zombie doctor, but...it seems that's something that kids are into those these days." he said with a shrug. "I think it says something for how much she thinks of you." he murmured, taking up the bottle which had been resting against his chest.

John smiled at the picture, a bloom of pride going through his chest. "Of course I'm up to it. Even if I wasn't, I would put on a face. I didn't just go through that to not see her." He reached out slowly, grimacing when he exposed the long cut on the inside of his arm, and gently combed through Sherlock's hair. "I got a couple tattoos," he said quietly, closing his eyes at the soft feeling of Sherlock's curls through his fingers.

Sherlock leaned forward into John's hand, letting out a breath when he saw the mark on his arm, no longer needing a bandage, but still clearly there. It had needed stitches, but it was obviously too late to do them when he was found. "Someday...just like before, you're going to tell me what happened," he said softly, looking up at John. "And we'll be able to tell our children that their Papa is very brave. We both have scars John...for what we did to keep our family safe." He smiled a little, standing up. 

"Here, take him a moment." he said, setting the infant at John's side and guiding his arm down to rest and cradle him at the same time. "I want to show you something." he said, taking off his coat and starting to unbutton his shirt. He pulled it off, and then turned, exposing his still marred back. There, on his right shoulder blade, stood the H that had been branded there, and on either side, a J and a W, inked into the skin and connected with intricate patterns that looked almost like chemical structures, which they were. Sherlock had designed it himself. "See? Tattoos, and they mean something, each one of them." he said, pulling his shirt back on and taking up John's hand, looking at Hamish, who was starting to doze, stomach full. He smiled, picking up the infant to start burping him before he fell completely asleep. 

John smiled, shaking his head a little. "You're ridiculous, you know that?" he asked, moving to lift up the right sleeve of his hospital gown. "I really did mean that I got tattoos, Sherlock. Damn the scars, I had those the first time, too." He pulled the light blue fabric back, revealing the seal of his company, merged with the seal of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. There was a lion on top, roaring and with it's claws extended, looking like it was pouncing at prey, and on the bottom was a golden eagle, swooping in for the kill. The outside of the seal was done in gold, and in interior in blue, with the names of both companies and the dates that he served. "And I did get my skin tags," he said quietly, rolling down the sleeve. "First day I arrived, that was the first place I went. They're on my left rib cage, but they're covered in a bruise now, so I can't really show you. I was going to get 'Property of Sherlock Holmes' tattooed underneath it, but I didn't figure that would go over too well," he joked.

Sherlock's ears warmed a little, touching the tattoo. "This is why I tend to take everything so literally...I can't pick up on sarcasm or metaphors," he said with a sigh. "It's hot." he said with a small smile. "And it would go over well, but really...I've always felt more yours than you felt mine," he said quietly. 

John reached out, cupping Sherlock's cheek, feeling his slightly heated skin and running his thumb over his cheekbone. "God, I missed you," he whispered, pulling Sherlock forward into a slightly awkward hug. It hurt, but he didn't care. He needed it, he needed his mate close. "I don't ever want to be separated from you again. Not ever. I don't care what it's for. I won't work. I don't want to leave you," he breathed, nearly crying against Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock couldn't stand it anymore, he stood up, and moved to the other side of the bed, setting Hamish between John's legs so he wouldn't roll away. Grabbing the pad that John was laying on, he gently pulled it to the side slowly, shifting his Alpha on the bed and murmuring a gentle 'sorry' in case the movement had hurt him. Sherlock scooped the infant up again and perched on the edge of the bed next to him, "If I'm hurting you, tell me." he ordered softly, leaning in close enough to make contact, but not enough to hurt, still cradling Hamish close to his chest. He let out a breath being so close to John, it was perfect. "God...when can you come home John? I don't care if you work, I've got my trust, you've got that bloody pension, which is most likely more now...we have the cabin...it'll be just us. Just the four of us."

John didn't complain at the sharp pain when Sherlock moved him, because he knew it meant that his Omega was going to be nearer to him. He sighed softly when Sherlock sat down, and he leaned in just a little closer to him, resting his head lightly on his shoulder and looking down at Hamish. "I don't know when I can be home," he replied softly. "Two months at least, probably closer to three. I need at least that for my toes to reset completely, and my heart is another problem completely." He sighed again, smiling softly at their sleepy son. "Have you texted Harry yet? About Katherine?"

Sherlock hated that, that John looked so well...considering things, but would still be kept from them. He pulled out his phone and sent a message. "She doesn't get out for another four hours," he murmured quietly. He looked up at John, "It was the electricity, wasn't it?" he asked. "Your heart...how bad is it?" he asked. "I...we can, will find whatever it is you might need John. I swear...you won't be sitting on any lists if that's what you're thinking, if it comes to that." 

John shook his head, linking his hand with Sherlock's. "They don't know how bad it is exactly, but it's not that bad," he promised. "I just know that I have a murmur right now, but it isn't consistent, so they think it's going to go away. I was lucky that the current found a way out of my body every time they shocked me, or I would have died, or been a lot worse off."

Sherlock let out a breath, nodding a little as he gave John's hand a small squeeze, Hamish cooing again, making his little chattering babbles quietly. "He always has to be part of a conversation...you get used to that," he said quietly. He swallowed, glancing up at John. "What did they want from you?" he asked. "To do all this to you...what did they want?" 

John gave a helpless shrug. "I don't know. He never said. He just kept asking me if I was ready to talk, and I kept telling him to go fuck off. Sometimes I thought about saying that I was ready, and then just not speaking, but then I feared something worse than torture, so I just stayed quiet." He reached up, running the tip of his finger over Hamish's cheek. 

Hamish's hand reached up and grabbed the finger quickly, that was what he always did, liked holding onto things, being in control at them. "Careful Hamish, Papa can't have to pulling to hard at his heartstrings yet...they need to get stronger first," he murmured, letting out a breath. "He wasn't your average terrorist...the signs are there, the cuts...the technique. He wasn't Afghan. Was there anything else about him? Anything?" he asked.

"He was American, but he was in control of a large group of Afghani -- that's what we call them over there," John explained, shrugging. "He was taller than me but not as tall as you; I'm guessing about 5'11" or so. His voice was rich, but not as low as yours, and his eyes were a deep warm brown in colour, but I could see the coldness in them. He had auburn hair, too. Little more red than true auburn, though, and he had like... a pretty-boy hair style, but he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty."

Sherlock searched his mind palace for an answer, but he knew he would find none. "American...the only American's I ever pissed off were some CIA, and that was...a misunderstanding," he said, confused. "I felt for sure that...that it had to do with me, that it was my fault somehow, that you ended up like this," he said quietly, letting out a breath. It wasn't then...he sighed. "The good thing is that you can put it behind you, and we can move on. He's gone now." He sighed, nuzzling against John's hair a bit. "You should rest some...before Katherine comes," he said quietly. "I won't go anywhere, I promise." 

John let out a small breath, nodding slowly and easing his finger out of Hamish's grasp so that he could relax his hand. "I'm going to be really pissed off if this is all a dream," he teased, closing his eyes as he settled a little more against Sherlock and closed his eyes, steadying his breathing. Sherlock had said that the man was gone, but John wasn't so sure. The last through his mind before he fell asleep was the man's final words to him. I'm not done with you yet.

Sherlock hummed softly, "It's not a dream, I promise," he said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to John's forehead. He watched as John's features relaxed a little, and then completely. He wanted that to be true, and he would push to have John home sooner than that, on bed rest of course. He sighed, rocking Hamish gently as he dozed as well. 

John woke a few hours later, his eyelids fluttering softly and he hummed quietly. "You're still here," he murmured, looking up at Hamish and then at Sherlock. He pushed himself up into more of a sitting position, reaching out for the slightly fussy baby and taking him gently from Sherlock. "What's wrong with you, little one?" he asked, holding his son close to him. "Are you giving your daddy a hard time? You know he tries," he said, catching the attention of those bright blue eyes and holding them.

Sherlock was roused from his mind palace when he heard Hamish fussing slightly, blinking a few times when John reached out for him. He relinquished him after a slight hesitation, which was habit. The whole time he'd had Hamish he never liked giving him over to anyone, and when he'd been taken...he didn't like putting the infant down now. But it was different with John. "Mmchanged him a little bit ago," Sherlock murmured softly, "And of course we're still here." he said quietly.

Hamish settled a little, his little forehead creasing a little at the change in arms holding him. He looked up with large eyes at John, and Sherlock smiled, feeling a tug in his chest. Hamish instantly brought his fist up to his mouth and started sucking on it, still looking at John intently. Sherlock sighed, "I swear Hamish, I only brought a few bottles with formula in them, you need to slow down babe," he murmured, getting up and taking a bottle from his bag that had some powder in it. He moved to the sink and added hot water, shaking the bottle up and waiting for the bubbles to diminish. He tested it on his wrist and held it out for John. "He's hungry, he'll suck on his fist for a bit before he starts screaming about it...best to do it before he does. He'll wake the whole ward." 

"When was the last time he ate?" John asked, gently moving Hamish's fist out of his mouth so that he could fit the plastic nipple between his lips. "We need to work on your manners," he whispered to the pup, bending down to lightly kiss his forehead. He glanced up at the clock, furrowing his brow and trying to remember what time it had been when he had fallen asleep. "When's Kat coming?" he asked.

"About four and a half hours ago." he murmured, looking at the clock as well. "They should be here soon enough I think; she gets out at four." he said. It was nearly four thirty. He sighed, settling on the edge of John's bed again, watching him hold and feed their son. "God...that's so beautiful." 

John looked up at Sherlock, and then back down at where Hamish was eating, gazing up at him with bright blue eyes that already had small sparks of yellow in them. "You must have missed me a lot if you think I look beautiful right now. He's definitely center stage at the moment," he teased, running his finger from Hamish's forehead down to the tip of his nose. He heard pattering feet in the hallway and a gentle hushed voice, and he grinned back over at Sherlock. "I think the young doctor has arrived."

Sherlock hummed, "You've no idea how much I missed you....then again, I suppose you're the only one who really knows." He looked up towards the door, seeing the edge of dark curls and a single blue eye, a sliver of his now four, nearly five year old daughter. He smiled, then gestured for her to come in and Katherine shoved the door open, running inside and skidding to a halt by the bed, pausing as she looked at John. She swallowed, looking at the tubes and wires, and the healed cuts and bruising, almost not recognizing John under all of it. 

"P-papa?" she asked in a small voice,

John smiled, trying hard not to cry at the hesitancy in his daughter's voice. "Hey, sweetheart," he said softly, taking Hamish's bottle away from him as he finished it and handing the infant back over to Sherlock. "It's me, Katty; Papa's just hurt. You can come up though, if you're careful," he said, patting the bed beside him and smiling encouragingly at her. "They're just cuts and bruises. You know what those are." He glanced up at the door, hearing more footsteps, and smiled at little at Harry, who had her hand covering her mouth, and there were obvious tears in her eyes. "Hey sis," he said tenderly.

Sherlock took Hamish from John, draping a cloth over his shoulder and started to burp the child. He reached over with one hand and smoothed down the dark ringlets, which had grown past her shoulders now. She sniffed a little and climbed up onto the chair, standing on it hesitantly before carefully perching on the edge of the bed. She fiddled with her hands in her lap, playing with the hem of her pleaded shirt, still wearing her uniform. "M-missed you Papa," she said quietly, looking up at him. She was almost afraid to hug him, not wanting to hurt him. 

Harry waved a small bit, a smile on her face despite her tears. She swallowed thickly, clearing her throat. "I...I'll stop by later I...you four need time to...to catch up." she said, waving, and backing out of the room before she full on started crying.

John watched Harry leave before turning his attention fully to Katherine. He smiled, picking her up and setting her gently on his lap. "Don't move too much, and you'll be alright," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "I missed you too, baby," he replied, closing his eyes as he hugged her. "God, you've gotten so big, and you look so good in your uniform," he said, ever the proud father.

Katherine didn't move when John wrapped his arms around her. She let out a breath, resting her head on his shoulder. "Did miss you Papa...lots and lots," she said quietly, rubbing her nose again. "You...I don'want you going away no m- anymore." she said, correcting herself as she spoke. Sherlock felt his heart clench at that, but he knew John wouldn't be leaving again like that. 

"I'm not," John promised. "I'm not going anywhere ever again, I promise," he whispered, turning his head to kiss Kat's temple. He leaned back, adjusting her so that she was lying across his chest, her head still resting on his shoulder, and then increased his morphine levels. "Are you going to help me get better?" he asked, rubbing his hand slowly over Kat's back.

Katherine hummed, then nodded gently. "Mhm..." she hummed softly, resting her hand on his arm, finger tracing the long line there. "Papa...got a bit cut...no more knife throwing," She said, tutting a little, it was something she'd picked up from Gran Hudson. "When you coming home?" she asked, tilting her head up slightly to look at him. 

Sherlock hummed, watching them with a smile that felt permanently etched on his face. Katherine looked over at them, and then back up at her papa. "Been helping Daddy with Misha...jus'like I promised," she said quietly.

John chuckled at how much she was starting to sound like Mrs. Hudson, with a small mix of his own mother thrown in. "I won't throw knives any more, baby, I promise," he said. "Not sure when I can come home, sweetie. Won't be too long, though. And I'm glad you've been helping with Misha." He looked up and caught Sherlock's eye, silently telling him that he liked that nickname, and that it was staying. "You're Papa's good girl; I knew you'd be brave for me."

Katherine beamed, nuzzling gently back close to John. "Papa thinks a few more months Katty, but I'm going to talk to Papa's doctor, see if we can't get him home earlier on house arrest." Sherlock said. 

Katherine's brows furrowed a little, "Papa's getting arrested?" she asked, confused. Sherlock chuckled a little, loving how normal this felt, well, not counting the hospital setting. "No sweetie, I mean maybe we can have Papa at home, but he would still have to stay in bed. Just like if he was in hospital. And a doctor would come and see him. It's an expression love, just like we talked about."

Katherine nodded, "Yes, Daddy told me..." she said, looking at John. "Told me abou' espressions," she said, her 't' absent from the end of her word. "Told me about," she then said, correcting herself with a small huff. "Being on the fence. That's a espression. And it means...between two choices." 

John combed gently through Katherine's hair, smiling softly down at her. "You're a very smart girl," he said proudly, "and you're getting good with your words." He shifted on the bed a little, keeping his expression flat, but he knew that there was pain in his eyes.

There was a soft knock at the door, and his doctor came in, smiling a little and holding out his hand to Sherlock and introducing himself as Doctor Chase. "He needs his rest now, and I know he won't sleep with all of you here," he explained. "You can stay for a little while, but visiting hours end soon and I'm going to be giving him something to help him sleep."

Katherine smiled, closing her eyes as she rested close to her John. Sherlock smiled, but he worried, seeing John's pain, noticing of course before when John adjusted his morphine drip. He shook the doctors hand and nodded, not wanting to leave at all. Katherine sat her head up, looking at him. "I can be quiet," she said in a small whisper, which made Sherlock smile again. 

"We can come back tomorrow Katty girl, I promise, but Papa needs sleep so he can get better and come home sooner," he said, looking back at Dr. Chase. "Speaking of which, what's the estimate for when you want him home, and when is it possible for me to have him home, assuming of course that he is on bed rest, meds, and with a home visit from a doctor, either you or otherwise because I assure you, I can afford that." 

Dr. Chase flipped through John's charts when addressed with Sherlock's question. "If he was going to be monitored at home by a doctor, I would say that he could leave anywhere between one and two months," he said, looking up from the clipboard and handing it over to Sherlock. "Look," he whispered, keeping the conversation away from Katherine, "he's putting on a brave face, but he's suffering. Anyone who can live through what he went through is a strong S.O.B., but his body can only take so much. I can't let him go home until I'm sure that his body is healed to a certain point."

Sherlock took the chart, feeling his heart swell up into his throat. He swallowed, glancing up at John as he continued to stroke Katherine's hair. He nodded a little, handing the charts back. "Ignore me...I'm not the doctor, and am extremely biased. I want him home but...I want him well." he said quietly, standing up and stepping to the side with the doctor. "Just...last time he had severe PTSD, it affected his sleep and such...took me forever to get him the right help. All I ask, is that if you're keeping here that long anyway, pay attention to healing his mind as well as the body. It's just as important, and even more fragile," he said in a hushed voice before walking back over to the bed. 

He hated having to do it, and if he didn't have the children he would have insisted on staying, being John's mate, he had that right. "Katty, we need to let Papa rest, he'll probably have more tests soon and we'll just be in the way," he murmured, helping Katherine off the bed. He handed Hamish to John once more so he could pull on his coat, taking up the infant after John had said goodbye. "We will be back tomorrow," he said, looking at John. "You keep the scarf for now." he said, knowing it had his and Hamish's scent on it.

John didn't want them to leave. He wanted to keep holding Katty, he wanted to hold Hamish again. He wanted to hold Sherlock, injuries be damned, but he knew he couldn't do any of those things. "I think visiting hours start at eight. But you should probably give Mum and Harry some time," he said softly, reaching out for his hand. "I love you," he whispered, lifting his hand to press a kiss to the back of his knuckles. "Goodnight, Katty girl. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" he said, turning to his daughter with a smile.

Katherine sniffed, a small, disappointed pout having formed on her lips. She nodded a little, looking down at the floor, "G'night Papa," she said, voice quiet. Sherlock let out a breath, squeezing John's hand. "I'll give them the morning, see about pulling Katty out of school a bit early so she can have more time with you." he said, almost jealous that he had to think of her first...he wanted time with John too. But that would come later, a whole lifetime. After saying goodbye again, he lead Katherine out, carrying Hamish as Katherine held onto his coat.

John sagged in the bed as soon as his family was around the corner, reaching over and turning up his morphine drip. He turned to Chase as the other doctor walked over, giving him a quizzical look. "You didn't tell him about my PTSD, why?" John asked, to which the doctor shrugged. 

"He looked like he had enough on his plate. Besides, I handed him your charts. If he had read the whole thing, he would have seen that PTSD symptoms were clearly marked on there." John nodded, closing his eyes and smirking. "That's illegal, you know." Dr. Chase laughed, adding a sleeping aid to John's IV. "Yes, well, I didn't see you complaining, and I have a feeling you would back me up."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. The continuation/conclusion of part four. I'm glad I got it up before I started school up again. 
> 
> I'll see how my schedule goes this next semester but the good thing is for the first time in two years, I won't have summer classes. Which hopefully leaves lots of time for more editing.

The first month was hard, having John so close, and yet still far away. Kept from him at certain times. They worked up a schedule, and it worked, but Sherlock still didn't feel like he really had John back. He saw the improvement though, John's bruises fading, the winces becoming less and less common. Most of his cuts faded and smoothed over, leaving lines in his skin that would fade more over time. Hamish was now three months old, and starting roll over a little from his stomach to his back, and his smiles, he started that at about nine weeks. At this rate he was hoping John could come home in time for Christmas, but he wouldn't ask Dr. Chase about that, he wanted to doctor to say it was okay for John to come home. On Hamish's three month birthday Sherlock returned once more to the hospital, smiling widely as he always did for his John and handed over the infant per protocol before perching on the edge of John's bed.

 

John took Hamish from Sherlock, holding the growing infant close and smiling down at him. "Happy quarter birthday, little Misha," he said happily, bouncing the decidedly happy boy on his lap. "You're getting so big, look at how tall you are," he said in his best proud papa voice, beaming at Hamish when he pushed up with his legs against John's thighs. He turned to look at Sherlock, the smile still on his lips, hiding the nightmares that he had suffered the night before. "So I got some good news earlier today," he said, lifting up Hamish when he started to get a little kicky and lying him on his back between his thighs so the he could tickle his belly.

 

Hamish giggled, babbling nonsense in response to John's words. A squeal escaped the infant at the tickling, and it made Sherlock grin. He looked up at John, blinking a couple times. "Oh?" he asked, not daring to even hope that John could come home. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but it looked like John was off the morphine completely. Sherlock knew he still took some pain meds, and had sneaked a look at his charts. Medications for depression as well as anxiety and to help him sleep. PTSD then, but they'd done it once...they would do it again. John could do that. 

 

John nodded, lifting Hamish up to blow a raspberry against his belly before he set him back down again. "Chase is saying that I should be home by the eighteenth," he said, grinning. "I have surgery scheduled to take out the heart monitor on the twelfth, and the casts on my feet are coming off tomorrow, and then it'll just be physical therapy in bed to make sure that I'll be okay, but, yeah, home by the eighteenth," he explained. "I'm still expected to be on bed rest until at least February, but he said starting December twenty-seventh or so I can walk around a little. Make a cuppa or something and then back to bed."

 

Sherlock smiled, leaning forward and kissing John. "Oh god...that's...that's fantastic. Katty's just been so worried that you wouldn't be there for Christmas. And of course, I'll help you get bathed and such, it would be my pleasure," he said with a small wink. "Also, we've got a shower chair as well, so you're not standing the whole while," he said, just so... _happy_ that they had a date now. An actual date. "So... your heart...what's the monitor picking up? Will you be okay? I mean, when you're fully healed, will you be good to run, or swim, or...other exercise?" he asked.

 

John laughed, reaching out and squeezing Sherlock's hand. "Oh, god, Sherlock," he said, wiping at his eyes. "Jesus, I'll be fine. The murmur is gone, and that was the only thing that they were concerned with, really." He picked up Hamish, kissing his forehead and then turning him onto his stomach, caging him with his legs. "I know you looked at my charts," he said quietly. "The PTSD is back. Whatever you remember..." he shook his head. "It's not the same this time. The nightmares are still there, but everything else is really... different."

 

Hamish cooed, reaching up with his hands and balling them into fists in John's gown, trying to pull himself further up, a determined look on his face before he started babbling again with some sharp bursts, "Babababa....Gack!" He then grinned, bouncing a little on his belly. Sherlock watched Hamish, looking up at John when he finished talking.

 

"Last time...you were drugged, it made you see it when you were awake I...you were afraid of hurting me, or Katherine," he said, then looked down. "And that time...I almost thought you would," he said, not particularly fond of the memory. But that hadn't been John at the time. 

 

John looked down, smiling a little at Hamish and helping him up just a little. "This time I've been having troubles falling asleep, and when I do the nightmares are vivid and I feel like I'm back there. I've yelled at the nurses a couple times for no reason, and then it's gone just a few seconds later. One time Chase told me that he came in here and I was awake, completely unresponsive, but my heart rate was skyrocketed. Apparently I had seen or heard something that reminded me of that place, and my mind and body had slipped into a dis-associative state and I was having a realistic flashback. He had to leave me like that for three hours. I woke up and thought that I had fallen asleep, that it was just another nightmare."

 

Sherlock felt his chest clench at that, and he nodded a little. "I...I don't...what do we do?" he asked, looking at John. "You haven't, I mean you haven't lashed out at anyone or anything?" he asked, not wanting to, but he had to ask, for Hamish's sake. He bit his lip, reaching up and cupping his cheek in one hand.

 

John shook his head, leaning into Sherlock's touch. "No, I'm just the opposite. Except for the occasional yelling, everything that's happening is just happening to me. I'm closing myself off instead of letting it out, but I'm not making that decision consciously. It's just... happening." He sighed, lifting up Hamish so that he was "standing" on the bed, keeping a steady grip on him as he bounced himself.

 

Sherlock shifted over and laid next to John, letting out a breath. "It'll go away John, just like before, slowly it will...time. That's all you need love. And in the mean time, there's herbal supplements...medications, things that can help." he said softly, watching John's hands as they held their son up, the infant happily bouncing himself as he tried to stand.

 

"I hope so," John murmured, resting his head against Sherlock's shoulder. They laid together for a couple hours, and John fed Hamish his bottle when he started to ask for it. Kat showed up when Harry dropped her off again after school, and they all sat together on the bed until visiting hours ended and Dr. Chase had to ask them to leave.  "I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said, waving goodbye to Sherlock and Katherine, smiling at them.

 

Sherlock left with the kids and went home. During the next week he busied himself when he wasn't with John, or minding their children, to prepare the flat. John would be coming home in just over a week and he intended to have everything ready. On the day John was to be discharged, Sherlock sent Katty and Hamish to Mindy's for the night, so that he could get settled and relax before the flat had two, sometimes loud, children in it. Sherlock hurried to the hospital, his third time seeing John alone since he'd been back and he was alight with excitement, his John was coming home. He stepped into the room, walking over and pressing a kiss to John's mouth, pulling away with a smile. "How'd the therapy go then?" he asked.

 

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, happy to finally be free of all of the IVs that had been hooked up to him. "It was a little tiring," he admitted, nuzzling against Sherlock's neck and inhaling his scent -- he had given the scarf back quite a while ago in order to keep Sherlock's scent on it. "But I have arm and sitting exercises that I'm supposed to be doing at home, which is going to be a pain in my arse, but if it gets me walking against, then I can't complain." He combed his fingers slowly through Sherlock's hair, enjoying the fact that it was just the two of them right then. "I love those kids, but I miss you, just you, sometimes too," he whispered, brushing his lips against Sherlock's.

 

Sherlock climbed up onto the bed, his arms winding around John easily now that he wasn't tied down with anything. He didn't squeeze anything, almost afraid that he was fragile, he'd been so...Sherlock didn't even like to think about that. He looked so much better now. He let out a breath, resting his head on John's chest and listened to the thrum beneath his ear. "Mm...I'm going to make sure you do them every day you're supposed to," he murmured, letting out a sigh. "I miss you too."

 

"I'm not going to break," John chuckled, wrapping his arm around Sherlock's shoulders and pulling him closer. "My collarbone healed quite a while before I came here, and nothing was ever wrong with my ribs except minor bruising." He ran his hand slowly over Sherlock's back, feeling the expanse that he knew so well. Sherlock's scent wrapped around him, the soft Omega scent a huge comfort to him, relaxing him visibly. "God, there it is," he murmured. "You're my medicine." 

 

Sherlock chuckled, pressing a bit closer to John. "I'm sorry...I just don't want to land you back in here." He looked up at John's expression and smirked. "So sentimental...you've been a horrible influence on me John Watson," he murmured quietly, smiling. "I can calm you down, but...I'm hardly medicine."

 

John hummed, running his fingers slowly over Sherlock's back. "Some medicines calm people down, and that's all that they do. Therefore, you're my medicine," John countered, smiling down at Sherlock. "It'll be nice to have you with me when I sleep."

 

Sherlock nuzzled against John's jaw, smiling again. "Fine...whatever." he murmured, nodding a little. "It's been tedious, having you back and not having you back. I'm just glad that you're going to be back home where you should be, and mine. All mine," he murmured. "This summer we should go to the cabin. Katherine will love it."

 

"I wish we could just move there," John said wistfully, combing his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "It's too far away from any place with a decent school system, though. I already checked," he murmured, turning his head to kiss Sherlock's forehead. There was a soft knock at the door and Dr. Chase came in, giving them a soft smile.

 

"Ready to go home, then, Captain Watson?" he asked, picking up John's charts and checking on them one last time.

 

"You have no idea," John said, chuckling a little.

 

Sherlock smiled, "It wouldn't be so special if we just lived there all the time." he said, turning to look at Dr. Chase as he came inside the room. He sat up a little, then nodded, "And you haven't changed your mind about this? Because if that's the case then you might want to go ahead and find yourself a doctor." he said, his grip tightening a little on John's hand.

 

John squeezed Sherlock's hand back, pushing himself up into a sitting position and grimacing a little. "Why would I change my mind?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at Sherlock. Dr. Chase walked over, checking John's pulse with his fingers for a moment.

 

"Alright, hang on. I have a wheelchair for you, and I expect you to take it to the street. And then you have crutches for when you get home." John nodded, watching the younger doctor walk outside for a moment and come back in with the wheelchair. He looked up at Sherlock, wrapping his arm around his mate's shoulders. "Care to help me?" he asked.

 

"I was referring, actually, to your doctor, making sure he wasn't changing his mind about keeping you here," he said, helping John into the chair. He was wearing some lounge bottoms and a t-shirt that Sherlock had brought from home. He got him settled and removed the brakes from the chair. "We're going then? I can take him out of the hospital and home, and he's well enough to do so assuming we follow the instructions at home for his therapy, meds, etc?" he asked.

 

Dr. Chase laughed, handing a bag of medication over to John. "I have not changed my mind. You can go home, and you stay there. I'll be by in a week for a checkup, and you be sure to call me if you're having any issues. I've listed a few therapists for you, since I remember you saying that your last one didn't help so much." He shook John's hand and then turned to Sherlock. "Look after him. Don't let him get too active," he said, holding out his hand to the Omega.

 

Sherlock nodded, shaking the doctor's hand. "I trust you to tell us on one of your visits when he can do more things, until then he will be staying in bed." he said with a nod. He worked on containing his excitement as he pulled on his coat and started pushing John from the room and down the hall to the lift. As soon as the door closed he grinned widely. "We're going home."

 

John turned, smiling up at Sherlock and reaching up to squeeze one of his hands for a moment. "Yes, we are. God, it's been over a year." He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, just cherishing the fact that he never had to go back to Afghanistan and that he was finally out of the hospital and heading home. 

 

Sherlock let out a breath, squeezing John's hand lightly. "You left in February, John," he murmured. "It's only been ten months, but that's ten months too many." He pushed John from the lift and out of the hospital. There was a car waiting for them, Mycroft, and he helped John in, settling next to him. He looked over at John, then leaned against him a bit. "He's been a bit generous lately, it's weird, he spends so much time at home and with me. I think he wanted the practice. "Greg's due around the 30th. Elizabeth Victoria Lestrade-Holmes. Isn't that just a mouthful, and I thought my name was long." he said with a smile, he didn't think he'd actually told John his full name. 

 

John blinked as Sherlock pushed him from the lift. "Jesus, it hasn't even been a year," he murmured, mostly to himself. "It feels like it's been a bloody lifetime." He was a little surprised at the car waiting for them, but he took it in stride, remembering that Mycroft was going to be a father and that he bound to be getting more protective. "It's a nice name," John said with a small smile, leaning against Sherlock. "What is your full name, by the way?" he asked, looking up at him.

 

Sherlock smiled, squeezing his hand a little as the car pulled away. "I agree...good name. Just long." He cleared his throat a little, "It's not that important really," he said shaking his head, reluctant almost. John's name was nice, concise to the point. Sherlock didn't understand him not liking his middle name. Still, John finally coming home, he wasn't in the mood to deny him anything. He sighed, "William...Sherlock...Scott...Holmes," he said, looking over at John.

 

John arched an eyebrow, turning to look at Sherlock. "You're first name isn't Sherlock?" he asked, his mind going a little blank at that information. "Why don't you like the name William? Why do you insist on people calling you Sherlock?" He turned his body a little too fast and swayed, steadying himself with a hand on Sherlock's knee. "I want to  _know_ ," he insisted, grinning like an eager child.

 

Sherlock sighed, "No, it's not my first name. And I've never  _insisted_  that people call me by it. I was just always called Sherlock growing up. Not sure why, but frankly it was better than the atrocious names associated with William. Bill, Billy, Will, Willy, some pop icon or something, I don't know," he said, resting his hand on top of John's. "But there you go, full name, and it's terrible," he murmured, ears a little warm.

 

John chuckled, leaning up to kiss Sherlock on the lips. "I love it," he murmured, his lips brushing against his mate's. "It suits you rather well, to be entirely honest." He kissed Sherlock again, humming in happiness because finally he could do this for as long as he liked. He reached his hand up, cupping Sherlock's neck and pulling him closer, their lips seeming to part together and their tongues sliding together, twining together in a dance that they knew all too well.

 

Sherlock hummed, his hands cupping the sides of John's face as he leaned into John. He grinned against John's mouth, resting his forehead against the Alpha's, breathing in his scent. "I am taking you home...and we're going to have it be just us. For one night anyway, then we'll all be together," he said softly. "And that's how it's going to stay," he said, closing his eyes for a moment. 

 

John nuzzled against his mate, humming quietly to himself and smiling as he pressed his lips against Sherlock's again. "Just you and me," he breathed, glad that they could get one night to themselves, even if it was just so that the kids wouldn't get in the way while they were settling him in. "We are going to the cabin as soon as I can walk, alright? All of us. And we are staying there until some unseen force pulls us back," he murmured, closing his eyes slowly and resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

 

Sherlock shook his head, "Not unforeseen, no. I'm done with the unexpected in regards to our lives. A case, I'm fine with, our lives...not anymore. We'll go when Katherine's school lets out, and go back for that, unless Hamish has an appointment. He's just had his two month boosters a bit ago...gave him a fever," he said quietly, kissing John's temple. "Just us..." he said softly, thinking to himself as the cab went along the London streets. They finally got home, and after some work Sherlock just gave up and lifted John, despite his protests, carrying him up the stairs. He helped him down the hall to their room, Hamish's bassinet in the corner.

 

John hadn't realised that he had lost enough weight for Sherlock to be able to carry him. It was a little embarrassing, and quite a bit disconcerting, but he supposed it was a good thing in this case, or he would have ended up sleeping with Mrs. Hudson. He sighed a little when Sherlock set him down on his side of the bed and ran his finger over the sheets. "God, it's so good to be home," he murmured, glancing up at Sherlock with a few tears in his eyes.

 

Sherlock reached over and took John's face in two hands, wiping at the tears with his thumbs before they could fall. "None of that now," he ordered gently. "You're home, John. And that's how it's going to stay. Now, lay down. I don't want that doctor repossessing you when he comes next week," he murmured, helping John back into the bed and onto his pillow. He was already wearing pajamas so he didn't need to change. He stood up, pulling off his coat and starting to unbutton his shirt. He stripped down to his pants and quickly climbed under the covers, curling up close to John. God he'd wanted to be held for ages and ages. He wrapped his arms around him, letting out a breath.

 

John laughed lightly, blinking back any other tears that were potentially threatening to fall. When Sherlock laid down beside him, he instantly wrapped his arm around his mate, pulling him close. "Screw this," he muttered, rolling onto his side and wrapping both of his arms around Sherlock, tucking his head under his chin and rocking him gently. "I missed you, love," he breathed, running his hand over Sherlock's smooth back before finally resting it at the dip in his spine and pulling him closer. 

 

Sherlock relaxed entirely when John's arms wrapped around him, not having felt so relaxed and...safe since John left. "God..." he breathed, "I missed you...this, all of it." He sighed, nuzzling into John's chest. He realized that he was almost trembling a little, from happiness he supposed, if people did that, did they? Because he wasn't sure why else he'd be doing that. He inhaled John's scent, so much better than the pillow he'd sprayed, infinitely so. " _Mine,_ " he said, voice faltering a little.

 

John sobbed a little at the break in Sherlock's voice, pulling him closer, holding him tighter. He buried his face in thick dark curls, finally letting himself break apart, after months of holding it together in that damned bloody hospital, after nearly a year in the desert. He was finally home. "Yours," he repeated. "Yours, always yours," he said through his tears, pulling back just enough to tip Sherlock's face up so that he could pepper him with kisses.

 

Sherlock let out a sharp breath, snaking his arms around John more and holding tightly to him. "It's alright John." Sherlock said quietly, speaking more into John's chest. He looked up, seeing John's damp face, closing his eyes as John started kissing him. He did the same, holding tightly onto him while still murmuring quietly to his mate.

 

John whimpered, covering Sherlock's lips with his own, but not really kissing, just holding them there. "God, Sherlock, I can't even..." he choked on another sob, wiping at his eyes and blinking down at Sherlock. "I went through so much hell over there. And now I'm home, and I'm just so bloody  _happy_  to be here." He finally kissed Sherlock properly, letting all of his emotions out through the touch of their lips and tongues. "You're mine as well, love," he breathed, running the tip of his nose along the bridge of Sherlock's.

 

Sherlock kept his eyes closed, allowing his other senses to drink John in. He tangled their legs together gently, minding John's toes just in case. He nodded a little, "Yours, always,” he said, kissing John lightly. He nuzzled against John's jaw lightly and let out a slow breath. They sat in silence for a while, and Sherlock had never been so content.   
  
              "Katty's going to love having you home. And I already miss Hamish," he said softly, "I don't like him being away from me, either of them really. Or you," he added, the list of people he needed nearby growing and growing it seemed.

 

John had to chuckle, ruffling Sherlock's hair gently. "Look at you. What happened to the young boy who hated the company of people?" he teased, continuing to hold Sherlock. "I told you that company was good. You didn't believe me, did you?" He bent his head, lightly kissing Sherlock's forehead. "But I know what you mean. I can't live without you three either."

 

Sherlock frowned a little, shaking his head. "I still hate the company of others John. There has only ever really been one exception. You. You're you, and they're part of you, and part of me. Everyone else...I tolerate, though I will admit some are nice to see from time to time. Like your mother, and sometimes...should the mood strike me, or the usually inconvenient impulse strike him, my brother." he said, resting his forehead against John's jaw and mouth. 

 

John smiled, knowing that he shouldn't feel so smug about being so important to Sherlock, but he couldn't help it. There was something about being the center of someone's world that was very... warming. He didn't say anything for a long time, letting their more tender and volatile emotions wind down a little before he pulled back a little from Sherlock so that he could speak. "I don't want to go through what we went through last time," he murmured, staring a little blankly at the wall behind Sherlock. "We have kids now that we need to protect. You... I think you need to know everything that happened to me over there," he said quietly, absently running his thumb over Sherlock's cheek.

 

Sherlock let out a breath, looking at John. "I...but you've just got home," he said quietly, looking at John steadily. "Are you sure you...you're ready to, tell me this?" he asked, wondering if he himself was ready to hear it. "I don't want...I don't want you upset," he said.

 

John swallowed, lowering his eyes for a moment before he locked eyes with Sherlock to let him know that he was being serious. "I want you to know, so that if I... if I disassociate or have a nightmare, then you'll know where I am and you can help me get out of it." He let out a small breath. "But if you're not... if you don't think you're ready to hear it, then I can understand that, too." 

 

Sherlock was quiet for a moment before he nodded. "I'm fine, John," he said, mentally creating a closet in his mind palace, as far away from John as he could, wanting to keep that separated from his wing. He let out a breath, looking at him steadily. "Tell me however much you need to," he said quietly. "Don't carry it all for yourself."

 

John nodded once, briskly, before he started talking. He skipped the details that he himself didn't find important, but he described what he kept focusing on -- the smell, what Amelia had asked him to do, the way that it had taken two strikes to kill them, how they took their time breaking each of his toes twice, how he almost became accustomed to the electrocution. He never looked at Sherlock when he spoke, not wanting to associate his mate with any part of those memories. "He kept my tags," he said quietly, almost as an after thought. "He was wearing them around his neck when he left." That little detail hadn't been haunting his nightmares, but it had been bothering his waking conscience. Why keep his tags if he already knew John's name?

 

Sherlock was quiet, glad that John wasn't looking at him, not able to see the look of horror on his face. He let out a breath, containing his emotions. He tightened his hold on John and buried his face into John's neck, running his hand down John's back. "I will always bring you away from that place John," he promised quietly, thinking about what John said last, he thought through John's story, pausing a moment. "You had them before they took you, my scarf...Katherine's doll. He...he didn't just keep the tags did he?" he asked, looking up at John. "He kept your identity...your name, my scent...why?"

 

John blinked, finally tearing his eyes away from the wall and looking back down at John. "I wish I knew why," he said quietly, his old leg "wound" starting to hurt from talking about things that brought back such bad memories. "I don't like it, though," he whispered. "The last thing he said to me was that I had a good taste in men, but that he did too, and then he bit my lip hard enough to make it bleed, licked the blood, and then left." John shivered, remembering the look in the man's eyes. "He scared the hell out of me."

 

Sherlock held John close, not seeing himself letting go of him any time soon. He swallowed, enraged at the thought of someone doing that to John, and then also at the thought that someone might come back for him. Someone who had his scent, and his daughter's. "John...we're not letting him near you, or Katherine, or Hamish. I promise."

 

"I know," John whispered, his voice long past broken. He clung to Sherlock, unable and unwilling to let him go. "I'll kill him if he comes near you or our children. And it won't be a quick death," he said blankly, hating the part of himself that could say that without blinking or flinching and mean it wholeheartedly. "He's not touching you," he whispered, his voice firm.

 

Sherlock swallowed, hearing the darkness in John's voice, one he himself knew he could possess, all those people he had killed, Moriarty's associates. Perhaps this man was one of them? Had he missed one? Or was this solely about John? "If he goes anywhere near the children, I'll help you," he said quietly, a hint of the same tone. He let out a breath, and nuzzled close to John. "We've talked about it, I know now, so...rest John, please? Let's just sleep, and you can hold me, and we'll just stay here all night. Us."

 

John took a slow breath in, closing his eyes before easing them open again. "Alright," he whispered. "Alright, we'll sleep. And then tomorrow the kids will be home and everything will be fine." He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, but he wasn't sure it was working on himself. "Goodnight, love," he murmured, pulling Sherlock closer as he gradually forced himself to sleep.

 

Sherlock nodded, "It will." he said softly, looking at John. He curled into John, listening to his breathing even out. Sherlock started humming the song he'd composed for John those years ago, his first time gone. His song. He hummed it softly, listening and feeling as John feel asleep. Once he finally did, Sherlock allowed himself to relax, though he didn't fall asleep, to busy thinking about what it meant, what  _he_  wanted. But he couldn't think...didn't understand who the American was. He did fall asleep at some point though, in the early morning.

 

John slept solidly, his arms wrapped around Sherlock. It wasn't until nearly four twenty when he woke up screaming, sitting bolt upright in bed and twisting his shoulder funny, which made him yelp but inevitable calmed him down. He dropped back to the mattress, turning to look at Sherlock, who he knew had to be up. "I'm fine. Night terror. Can't remember it because it was in stage three or four sleep." He wrapped his arm around Sherlock's shoulders, pulling him close as he regained a steady heartbeat. "Go back to sleep, if you can."

 

Sherlock had probably been asleep for two hours when he woke to the sounds of John screaming. He shot up in bed, his hands reaching out blindly for his mate. When John spoke he calmed slightly, knowing at least that he wasn't hurt. After he'd calmed a little, he started to hum once more for John, clinging onto him and keeping his neck tilted so that John could scent him easier. He didn't really see himself falling asleep again though.

 

John turned his head and nuzzled Sherlock's neck, scenting him and kissing his neck lightly before he stared at the ceiling, just listening to Sherlock hum. After nearly a half hour, he sighed, rubbing his hand over Sherlock's back. "Sorry for waking you," he whispered. "Doesn't look like either of us are going back to sleep tonight."

 

Sherlock shook his head, "I'm fine." he murmured quietly. "Hamish wakes me up sometimes as well, needless to say I'm used to it." he said quietly, shifting so he was closer to John. He changed his mind a moment later though and rolled so that he was facing away from John, curling slightly in an invitation for John to curl around him like they used to, Sherlock as the small spoon or whatever the analogy was.

 

John looked at Sherlock, for a moment thinking that the Omega was mad at him, but then he understood. He turned onto his side, wrapping his arm around Sherlock and placing his flattened palm on his chest, directly over his heartbeat. "I love you," he whispered, pressing a lasting kiss over the mark on the back of Sherlock's neck-- _their_  mark. He nuzzled into Sherlock's hair, breathing him in deeply. "I love you so much."

 

Sherlock shivered a small bit when John's lips pressed against his bondmark, as he was hoping John would do. Well he'd known John would do it actually, part of the reason he'd rolled over, he knew that John wouldn't have been able to help himself. He sighed, leaning back into John and covering his mate's hand with his own. "I love you too," he murmured quietly, letting out another breath. "Really try and go back to sleep John, you need the rest. I'm here alright?" he said, rubbing the back of John's hand.

 

John sighed, knowing that he needed the sleep, but he was tired of these stupid night terrors and nightmares. He rested his forehead at the nape of Sherlock's neck, pressing his mate closer to him. "I know you're here," he said quietly, feeling Sherlock's heartbeat below the palm of his hand. He closed his eyes after a moment, just breathing in Sherlock's scent and letting it relax him. "Wake me up when Mum drops off the kids," he mumbled before drifting off to sleep.

 

There weren't anymore nightmares for John that night, and Sherlock stayed awake to ensure just that, rubbing John's hand. He had to pry himself gently from John's grip, replacing the gap in his mate's arms with his pillow, so that John still had his scent. Sherlock had heard his phone go off, and it was Mindy. Twenty minutes later they were dropped off, and Sherlock smiled to see Hamish, who squealed when Sherlock lifted him up from Mindy's arms. He thanked Mindy, inviting her over in a couple days when John was more settled, before going upstairs. Katherine was bouncing with excitement, but she composed herself quickly, as Sherlock often did, and tiptoed into the bedroom. Sherlock followed her, smiling as he watched the four-year-old climb gently onto the bed and lay next to John, her face close to his. She reached up and trailed a finger down the bridge of his nose. "Papa?" she whispered.

 

John twitched his nose at the light touch, slowly opening his eyes to see a small round face with wide blue eyes looking back at him. "Well, good morning, Katty," he said softly, smiling widely at his daughter as he moved Sherlock's pillow aside to pull Katherine closer to him, cradling her against his chest. "How are you, baby? Did you have fun at your Gran's?" It felt good to hold her again, properly now, and at home. She still smelled like a combination of himself and Sherlock, and it was comforting to him to know that she was here, and she was theirs.

 

Katherine grinned, giggling when John pulled her close. She cuddled close to him, nuzzling against his chest. "I'm good, had fun at Gran's," she said, looking up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Missed you Papa, you feel better now?" she asked. Sherlock perched on the edge of the bed, sitting Hamish down between them and holding him so he wouldn't topple over to his side.

 

"A little bit, yeah," John said, smiling as he let her go and pushed himself slowly up into a sitting position with his shoulder back against the headboard. "Hello, there, little Misha," he said when he looked over toward Sherlock and then down at their son. He held out his hands for the infant, picking him up and chuckling a little when he squealed in delight. "How are you, big boy? Good lord, you're getting heavy. What is your Gran feeding you?" he teased, winking over at Sherlock before blowing a raspberry on Hamish's belly.

 

Hamish squealed, babbling nonsensically with a little grin on his face. He bounced as Katherine loomed on at the attention Hamish was getting. She blinked, "I'm getting big too Papa," she said, cuddling closer to him. Sherlock saw the flash of green in her eyes and sighed, this had started about a month ago, the thrill of a baby brother wearing thin when she realized how much attention babies get.

 

John moved Hamish to his left hip, pulling Katherine onto his right thigh and holding her close. "I know you are, Katty," he said gently, smiling as he kissed her. "You've always been my big, strong girl, haven't you?" he asked nuzzling against her as he bounced Hamish a little. "Pretty soon, you're going to be as tall as I am, and then maybe even taller," he said, wiggling his eyebrows a little to make her laugh.

 

Hamish tugged at John's shirt, sticking a bunch of the fabric into his mouth and gumming it a little, cooing to himself. Katherine nodded, still eyeing Hamish. "Maybe get tall like Daddy. Or taller than Daddy!" she said, looking back at him. Sherlock smiled, "Katty girl, statistically that's not likely. Men are usually taller than women, that's just how it is love," he murmured, smoothing down her hair.

 

John laughed, glancing down at Hamish for a moment before turning back to Kat. "Plus, you've got me as your papa, and I'm pretty short," he said with a wink, handing Hamish back over to Sherlock so that he could focus on Katherine. "Did Gran feed you?" he asked, glancing up at Sherlock in silent communication, asking for tea and breakfast and time alone with Kat. 

 

Sherlock looked between them, then nodded once. "Come on Mish, let's go make some food," he murmured, getting up and excusing himself. 

 

Katherine settled onto John’s lap, leaning up to kiss his cheek again. "Had some toast," she said quietly. She looked up, "Gonna be best Christmas ever...ah asked Santa for Papa to come home," she said quietly.

 

John held Kat close, kissing the top of her head. "Well he must have decided to give you your present early," he said softly, nuzzling into her hair and rubbing her belly. "You know I love you, sweetheart, right? No matter what, no matter how much time I spend with Hamish or your daddy, I will always love you just as much as I always have," he murmured, tilting her head up so that their eyes could meet.

 

Katherine held onto her Papa's arms, trailing her finger along a scar on his forearm. She nodded a little, looking up when her head was tilted. "I know Papa," she said quietly. She sighed a little, resting her head against his chest. "I'm almost five. Ah turneded four, when I saw you. How old're you Papa?" she asked, holding up her fingers a little.

 

John laughed, pulling Katherine closer to him. "Old. Your papa is getting old, baby. I'm almost thirty years old," he said, holding out one hand with three fingers, and the other with a zero." He felt so old when he said that, though he knew that he was still young, still with forty years or much more left. He sighed, not wanting to think about that, and started combing his fingers idly through his daughter's hair.

 

Katherine blinked a couple times, thinking quietly. "Can...I think can count that high yet," she said softly. "I'm almost five," she said again, holding up one hand with her fingers splayed, five was easy. She put her small hands over John’s, holding onto them. "Daddy's birthday's closer...ah'member it being close by Christmas."

 

John held onto Katherine's hands, wanting to keep her close for as long as possible. "That's right, it is," he said, smiling softly down at her. "January sixth," he told her, counting out six on his fingers. He looked up at the doorway when he heard Sherlock come back in, carrying a tray of breakfast on one hand, and a wiggling Hamish in his other arm. John laughed, reaching out for the tray. "I applaud your balance skills," he said with a broad smile.

 

Sherlock settled onto the bed facing John after he'd taken the tray. "Well one has to hone such skills with two small children" he said, settling Hamish between his legs, the infant almost sitting up by himself, having Sherlock's thighs to support him, and his lower abdomen should he fall back. He played with Hamish's feet while John started to spread some of the jam on his toast. "Katherine's going to start violin lessons for her fifth birthday." he told John, smiling at the look on Katherine's face.

 

"Yes! I am, and I want to get a nice violin like Papa's someday!" she said. Sherlock grinned, knowing full well that there was a small violin tucked into the top of the hall closet, just the right size for Katherine's fingers.

 

John grinned, looking up at Katherine as he handed the first piece of toast over to Sherlock, giving him a look that told him to eat it with no complaints. "That's amazing, Katty," he said proudly. "I'm sure you'll be able to play just like Daddy once you have enough practice. You're already so good." He spread jam on another piece of toast and took a bite, savouring the flavour. No more desert food, no more hospital food.

 

Sherlock sighed at the look, John was the one that needed it more, and he ate before going to the hospital...twenty-four hours before. He sighed again, then took a bite. Katherine smiled, picking up the mug of tea that was hers, it had a kitten on it. Hamish squawked a little, his small fists hitting Sherlock's legs, making smacking sounds with his mouth. Sherlock finished the toast, picking him up and situated him in the crook of his arm. "You've got worse manners than me. Maybe your Papa will be a good influence like he was on me," he murmured, picking up the bottle he'd prepared and set on the tray, holding it out for the infant. He always made Hamish reach for it, and as such, just over three months old he was already almost holding the bottle himself.

 

John grinned. "I'll volunteer to feed him when I'm not sleeping from now until he learns some manners then, yeah?" he offered, serious about it. He winked down at Katherine, reaching for his own tea and taking a sip from it. It was good to be home.

 

 

Two weeks passed, and it was the day before Sherlock's birthday. John was walking now, but only in small sections--to the kitchen for tea, or to the living room to sit and be with his family, and then back to bed a couple hours later for sleeping. But at least he wasn't trapped in bed. He was moving. He had only had one disassociation so far, but multiple nightmares and terrors. Sherlock had adjusted to John being home, but at times he would walk into a room and see him there and it hit him all over again, the relief, and then the quiet, nagging fear of the man from the desert.

 

John had taught Hamish manners, and the infant now made a quiet sound and clapped his hands when he was hungry, looking towards John or Sherlock with wide eyes that he knew were hard to refuse. It had only taken one day, and all John had done was let Hamish cry and scream bloody murder. Mrs. Hudson had come up asking if they were killing him. He cried for an hour straight, on his back between John's thighs, with John rubbing his belly, telling him to calm down and ask politely, and finally his son had seemed to comprehend. He quieted down, sucking in uneven breaths and looking up at him with watering eyes, making a small begging noise and clapping his hands as if asking for something. The process had stuck. 

 

Sherlock had hated it when John 'taught' Hamish manners. It was their first almost fight since John had been back. Hearing Hamish scream and cry like that, practically pained Sherlock. "Just give it to him! He's hungry, it's not like it's that much work!" he said, almost snatching his son away from John to feed him himself, but the look John shot towards him told him well enough not to do so. 

 

They had gotten a phone call a few days after that miracle that Greg was going into labour, two days early. Mycroft was freaking out, so John had volunteered to watch the pups while Sherlock went to be with his brother. Early the next morning, John had gotten a phone call from Sherlock, letting him know that Sherlock was now a proud uncle of a very adorable little girl.

 

The ordeal with Mycroft and Greg, was exhausting. Sherlock couldn't remember his brother ever looking so…distressed, as much as Mycroft could be anyway. Everything had gone smoothly though, and Sherlock was there when Mycroft held his daughter for the first time, Elizabeth Victoria Lestrade-Holmes. She was beautiful. He also had never seen his brother look like he did when he held her, his gaze...warm. Still, Sherlock didn't like to be gone away from his family, so he left. 

 

He came up the stairs quickly, knowing it was Katherine's naptime, so he was quiet. He saw John on the sofa, holding a sleeping Hamish, and he walked over towards them, sitting close to them. "She's lovely, nothing like Katherine was though, the thing screams, Mycroft's going to have fun with her." he said with a grin.

 

John smiled when Sherlock walked in, pulling his feet up so that Sherlock could sit. Hamish was lying across his chest, because John had known he should have been lying down, but he had to watch the kids. This was his compromise. "What colour hair?" he asked quietly, rubbing his hand soothingly over Hamish's small back to keep him asleep. It would be hard to tell with them. He didn't know Greg's natural colour since he had been salt-and-pepper grey since John had known him, but Mycroft was technically a ginger, though his hair was a very dark orange, nearly auburn. 

 

"It looks brown," Sherlock murmured, laying John's legs over his lap and settling back into the sofa. He rubbed John's legs absentmindedly, glancing over at his violin case in the corner, knowing he couldn't play, it would wake Hamish. He hadn't played since before he was born, in fact he wasn't sure how long it had been, had he even picked it up after John had left? He shook himself of the thoughts, looking over at John, who was looking at their son. "I'm going to be there for his first birthday, and every one after that, and so are you," he reminded John. They both had missed birthdays, and that was going to be remedied.

 

John looked up at Sherlock, his eyes turning sad as he remembered the birthday's of Sherlock's that he had missed, and his own that he had forgotten about, and recently Kat's birthday and the birth of his son. He tipped his head back, looking up at the ceiling and blinking away any fogginess in his eyes that was forming. "Yes, we are," he said. "I'm not missing anymore birthdays or holidays, and neither are you. I'm done. I'm home, and I'm not leaving."

 

Sherlock let out a breath, looking at the two of them, and at John holding back tears. "I think that when you're walking a tad more...we should go out," he said softly. "The two of us, the four of us, I don't care. I just, want to get out of here."

 

"Where?" John asked, clearing his throat and looking back at Sherlock. "Angelo's or farther out than that?" He shifted a little, soothing Hamish when he put up a small fuss. He was a better sleeper when John held him, though. Probably thanks to the bit of his scent that Sherlock had put with him from day one.

 

Sherlock shrugged, "I don't know. I would take you far away if I could, but that is somewhat problematic with Katherine's school," he murmured. "Angelo's is nice, the cottage better, perhaps for Easter Holiday." He looked over when Hamish fussed, smiling a little when John soothed him so quickly.

 

John hummed. "I'll call Dr. Chase, see if he can stop by before Easter instead of after, then, so that we can stay as long as we like," he said, glancing over at Katherine where she was sleeping heavily in John's chair. "Or, at least, until she needs to be back in school." He sighed, looking up at the ceiling again. "And you and I are going to take a weekend here soon, as soon as I can move around properly. Mum can take the kids and you and I are going to disappear for a while."

 

Sherlock smiled at John, then nodded. "Weekend sounds good to me." He thought about Easter, and how it was months away yet. Would Dr. Chase still be making house calls at that point? "Definitely something I want to do. I've missed you in more ways than one."

 

"I've missed you, too," John whispered. He hummed quietly. "If you're worried about Dr. Chase visiting, he and I had already planned out that that would be his last meet with me after giving me a month or two alone," he said, smiling reassuringly at Sherlock.

 

Sherlock nodded, "Alright...good. I'm glad for that, means he won't be interrupting anything," he said, scooting John over a little and sliding in between the sofa and him to lay wedged between the two. He rested his hand on Hamish's back, over John's hand, looking at the sleeping infant, who's hand was partway in his mouth, sucking on it lightly. "You can go lay in bed if you want to rest...I can watch these two," he whispered softly, his head resting on John's shoulder.

 

John hummed, tipping his head so that his cheek was resting against the top of Sherlock's head. He couldn't remember being so content in a very long time. "No, it's alright. I'm fine here," he whispered in reply, nuzzling a little into Sherlock's hair. "Technically, I'm resting," he murmured, rubbing his thumb gently over Hamish's back. "I've missed this, anyway. Just being close to you."

 

"Why don't you sleep, love?" John whispered, reaching up with his free hand to stroke through Sherlock's errant curls. "You need it, having been dealing with Mycroft's emotions all night." He smiled, knowing that Kat would easily sleep for another hour, and Hamish probably another thirty minutes before he would demand a diaper change, after which he would crash again. 

 

"Mmfine," Sherlock mumbled, moving his hand so he could stroke Hamish's cheek a little. The infant's face wrinkled a little, before smoothing out again, his sleep uninterrupted. He smiled a little, looking at his son still. "She looks like him, Elizabeth, she looks a bit like Mycroft. Unfortunate really," he said with a small, tired smirk. "She's quite able to pull it off though."

 

John chuckled softly, closing his eyes as he held the two most important boys in his life. All he needed now was Katherine lying across his legs and his life would be complete. "She'll probably look stellar," he murmured, wanting to roll over and snuggle closer to Sherlock, but he couldn't because he was holding Hamish. "If you're really not going to go to sleep, then maybe I should. One of us has to," he said quietly, though he knew that if he moved, Hamish would wake up.

 

"Why can't we both sleep?" he murmured quietly, his hand still resting atop of Hamish. "He's not going anywhere. And I could easily rest here...if you were too." He tilted his head up a bit to look at John.

 

John made a hesitant noise, already over protective of Hamish when he was able to have him. "I don't know," he said quietly, looking at the floor. "He could fall," he murmured. "I could have a nightmare. I don't want to hurt him, Sherlock," he said quietly, gently hushing Hamish when he stirred, sensing John's discomfort.

 

"You won't," Sherlock said softly. "Look, if you move, I wake up. I'm a light sleeper, remember?" he murmured. "Neither of us will let him fall, John, you're worrying far too much," he said, moving his hand slightly. "We both have him, and you won't allow yourself to hurt him, even in your sleep."

 

"Sherlock, I can't control myself in my sleep," John said, trying hard not to snap at his mate. "I am not a feather light sleeper, especially when a nightmare has me. I can't do anything about it, and I don't want to hurt our son." He turned his head, staring up at the ceiling, forcing himself to take deep breaths through his nose.

 

Sherlock sighed, able to feel John tensing slightly. "Fine, alright." he said quietly. "Don't sleep then, time for that later. I need to start dinner anyway." he mumbled, easing out from where he'd been wedged and crossed over into the kitchen to start cutting up vegetables.

 

John let out a tense breath, stroking his hand over Hamish's back, murmuring quietly to him to keep him asleep. He closed his eyes tightly, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, forcing himself to be calm.

 

Twenty minutes, later, Hamish started to fuss, waking up. John picked him up and started bouncing him, bringing him into the bedroom for a change before he started really crying. "There you go, big boy," John said, picking Hamish up and smiling at him once he was clean again. "Shall we go visit Daddy before you fall asleep again?" he asked, already heading back towards the kitchen.

 

Sherlock was sitting in the kitchen, watching the hunk of meat he'd put in the oven. John normally cooked, but John's absence and the fact that he had a child meant that he couldn't just order take out, which required him learning how to make at least a few things. He could have just waited in the living room, but he wanted the space for a moment. He looked up when John came in, holding Hamish with one arm. "Dinner has about an hour and a half left...it slow cooks." he said. "I should wake Katherine up, other wise she won't sleep at all tonight," he said, standing and starting to walk past John.

 

"May as well take Hamish with you," John said, handing their son over. "He's going to fall asleep again soon. Just put him in the rocker and he'll pass out," he said quietly, able to see that Sherlock needed some space. "I'll just make some tea and go lie down in bed then, yeah?" he murmured, rubbing the inside of his arm without thinking about it and walking over to the kettle on the counter.

 

Sherlock took Hamish, giving him a small smile as he walked into the living room and set him into his rocker. He rubbed his belly gently as the infant started to suck on his fist again, dozing off. He walked over to Katherine, waking her. "Hey Katty girl, time to wake up. Why don't you go upstairs for some play time before dinner, and I'll read to you and your brother after, hmm?" Katherine nodded, kissing him on his cheek and shuffling upstairs, still waking up a bit. Sherlock sighed, walking into the kitchen as John was finishing tea. "I don't want you to doubt yourself John." he said quietly. "To be afraid of yourself again. because it just made it worse last time."

 

John sighed, holding the mug in both hands. "I can't help it, love," he said quietly. "I know what I'm capable of, but you don't. I sat through two weeks of torture -- do you know how much pain that is? How much pain that I couldn't scream for, could barely even flinch at, or it just got worse? All of that is still in here," he said, tapping the side of his head. "And I'm still coming back from being a soldier again. My first instinct when I wake up every morning is still to check under my pillow for my gun and my knife, and then under the bed for my assault rifle. I know how to kill someone twelve different ways with just my hands, and there's nothing that says I couldn't do it unconsciously. If I get caught up in a nightmare or night terror, I'm stuck until I wake up. Before I got sent to Bart's, when I was in the hospital in Afghanistan, I slept for fifteen hours, six of them trapped in a nightmare that I couldn't force myself to wake up from. So don't..." he shook his head. "Don't tell me to not be afraid of myself."

 

Sherlock didn't like hearing it, he wanted it to go away, he didn't want John to have all of that in his head. He nodded once, letting out a breath. "Katherine has nightmares...bit less common now, but she crawls into the bed. What do we do then? Just send her away?" he asked softly, "Send you away? Because that doesn't work," He said, looking at John. "You keep telling yourself that you're dangerous, or that you will do it, and you will. I know it's hard, but...don't let it linger longer than it should...you keep your claws into it, then it won't go anywhere," he murmured, sitting down at the table and rubbing his eyes.

 

John sighed, filling his mug up with tea again and taking another sip. "I don't know what to do, then," he said quietly. "I don't want to keep holding on to it, but I don't know how to let it go." He took another small sip of tea, then shook his head. "I'm going to go lie down. I shouldn't be standing this long yet." He stepped away from the counter, walking towards the room. Just a few feet into the hallway, he froze, the flat dissolving away from him and the tea mug slipping from his fingers.

 

Sherlock jumped when he heard the mug shatter and thought perhaps that John had fallen, but he knew when he heard nothing but silence from the hall what had happened. He made his way down the hall to see John looking into space, a blank expression on his face. Sherlock let out a breath and stood in front of him. "John...where are you at?" He asked, knowing the answer, but maybe he could get John to reason himself out of it. "Listen to my voice John, it's Sherlock. How can I be over there? Hmm? I know you can hear me...now think. I've never seen the desert. I never went there, so if you can hear me then what does that mean?" He asked, gently stroking his cheek, hoping his scent on his wrist would help.

 

John could barely hear Sherlock, his voice more like a whisper of wind. He felt the heat around him, saw the rocks, the sand, the mirages that messed with his vision. There was a touch on his cheek that he felt as a slap, and he gasped, his vision blurring as he went from bright hot light to a muggy, dim room with a spotlight. "No," he gasped, stumbling back and running into a wall, which only felt like lashes where he was. 

 

Sherlock flinched a little, jerking back his hand when John sucked in a sharp breath. No touching then, okay. He held his wrist near John's face, but no where touching, still keeping his scent near him. "John...listen to me. It's Sherlock, your Sherlock. I am right here with you, and you are with me. At home. In London, come on, wake up." he said, lifting his voice just slightly higher. Nothing seemed to work. He let out a breath, then had a thought. "I'll be right back." he said, hurrying down the hall and seeing a sleeping Hamish in his rocker. That would change soon enough. He dug out his violin, plucking it to make sure it was in tune as he walked back down the hall, stopping a about a meter from John. "John...come home," he said, starting to play the song he'd written to John, the one he'd sent to Afghanistan the first time. Sherlock hoped that the two separate memories from that desert would overlap, and John would hear it.

 

John blinked, just barely making out the change in tone of where he was. There was music in the air, soft and flowing, and as soon as he latched onto it, he was back in his bunk, and Stephen was sitting next to him, and they were laughing over a cup of coffee and a bar of chocolate. There was a sharp noise and a scream, and Stephen slumped forward, bleeding form the whole in his head. John shouted, jumping to his feet, and when he blinked he was back in the flat, panting and wide-eyed. His gaze quickly found Sherlock, standing close but out of reach, his violin now hanging by his hip. John could hear Hamish fussing a little from the living room, but he was caught between wanting to go get him and knowing that he shouldn't.

 

Sherlock stopped playing as soon as he saw the shift in John, lowering his violin and bow. The music had woken Hamish, but he would be okay, Sherlock was more worried about John. He let out a breath, setting the instrument on a small table in the hall and approached John slowly, allowing him to pull away or back up if he wanted, before he wrapped his arms around him. "You came back...it's okay John. You're home, see?" he said, holding John tightly, able to smell the fear in John's scent. "This is London, and it's me, and that's our son fussing up a storm in the living room."

 

It took John a full minute before he threw his arms around Sherlock, burying his face in the crook of his neck and inhaling his scent. "I can't do this," he whispered, shaking his head, his body trembling so hard that he thought his knees might give out. "Sherlock, I can't, oh, god..." he burst into tears, thinking about Stephen, and wondering if the man with the auburn hair was responsible for his death as well, if he was in charge of killing both of John's teams. 

 

Sherlock tightened his grip on John, rubbing his back a little. "You can," he said firmly. "John, you are the strongest and kindest man I know, and you can do this." He pulled away a little and held his face in both hands, locking eyes with the doctor. "If you could come back from that place physically...then you can mentally as well, I know you can. Give it time. You've only just been home for a couple weeks." 

 

It was a struggle for John to nod, but he managed, nuzzling into one of Sherlock's palms and kissing it lightly. "You should... you should go get Misha. I'm sure he's wondering what the h-hell's going on," he murmured with a smile, stuffing down his emotions for the moment as he leaned up to kiss Sherlock's chin, walking past him and into the bedroom.

 

Sherlock watched John move down the hall, and then left for the living room to pick up their son, who was practically on the verge of screaming. "It's alright Mish," he murmured, rubbing the infants back and poking his head into the kitchen to check the timer. He sighed, then also checked upstairs really quick, seeing Katherine playing quietly. That done he went back downstairs and into the room to see John. "Don't hide John, please? Here... come see Hamish," he said, sitting on the bed and standing the infant up, holding onto him as Hamish bounced his legs, jumping up and down.

 

John rubbed at his eyes, ignoring the fact that he had been looking at his skin tags before Sherlock had opened the door. "'m not hiding," he muttered, reaching out for Hamish and taking him from his mate, holding him gently between his thighs and letting him bounce. "You're going to be walking soon, aren't you? Just like your sister. Bet you have a mind like your daddy's, hm? Able to figure things out quick." He leaned forward, kissing Hamish's forehead. "Sorry for waking you, little one. Papa doesn't always have the best mind."

 

"Ga-Gack!" Hamish squealed, grinning up at John and making grabby hands towards him, starting to babble quietly, making small drool bubbles. The infant not bothered in the slightest it appeared. Sherlock settled next to John, curling next to him and smiling at Hamish.

 

"Nearly four months...my guess is he'll be crawling within a month and a half, he's already rolling over and pushing up some," he said softly. He reached over and smoothed down Hamish's soft blond hair, which had lost its curl slightly. 

 

"I'll have to teach you how to play rugby," John said to his son, sitting him down on his knee so that he could bounce him and still hold him with one hand. He wrapped the other arm around Sherlock's waist, tugging him closer. "Sorry about earlier. Arguing with you," he murmured, leaning over to kiss his forehead. More bubbles came from Hamish along with a fresh string of babbles. Sherlock rested his head on John's shoulder and nodded a little.

 

"It's okay," he murmured. "I know it's hard for you.And you'll have to teach Katherine to play rugby as well...if she's interested," he said.

 

John smirked a little. "She seems more your child, interested in the arts and her violin," he said, remembering the look on her face when she had opened up  _that_  present on Christmas morning. "Though she has my interest in medicine, so who knows with her." He still planned on teaching both of their children how to shoot a gun, but that wouldn't come until they were each twelve at least, possibly older, depending on what Sherlock thought. 

 

Sherlock smiled at that, then shook his head. "This isn't a contest John...they're both both of ours," he said quietly, nuzzling John's jaw. Hamish jumped again, changing pitch in his tone, obviously not happy that the conversation had shifted from him. "Ga!" he shrieked, then stuck his fist in his mouth, sucking on it and looking down at his wrist as if intrigued by what his hand was doing. "Hungry I take it, I can go get a bottle, used to getting up and doing so at Hamish's shouty little demands.”

 

"You are such a spoiled, needy child," John scolded lightly, bouncing Hamish again. His eyes unfocused for a moment and his bit his lip, quickly shaking his head and rubbing at his eyes again. Hamish furrowed his brow, reaching out to him, one had full of saliva, the other dry.

 

"I'm alright, Misha," John murmured, taking his son's dry hand and waving it a little. When Sherlock came back in, John handed Hamish off to him, scooting down the bed so that he could lie down. "Should be doing this anyway," he said quietly.

 

Sherlock took Hamish, waiting until he reached out  _quietly_  for his bottle, before letting him have it. He rocked him gently, "Have you done your exercises today?" he asked, looking over at John. He estimated that there would be about half an hour on dinner, plenty enough time for John to do them and then rest a bit before they ate.

 

"Yes," John replied, though he had only gotten through half of them before he had quit, wanting to spend more time with the kids. He sighed a little, lifting the hem of his shirt to trace his fingers over the tattoo on his rib cage, which was finally visible now that the bruise was completely gone.

 

Sherlock looked at the tattoo, Hamish holding the bottle on his own with it leaned against his chest, he reached out and gently touched them. "I still wear the other ones you know," he murmured. "Mind you, Hamish likes to tug on them so I don't have them on right now." He knew he said he would give the tags to Katherine...but Sherlock didn't want to give them up, having thought he would wear John's new ones. He told himself though, he would find that man, and take the tags from his cold corpse and then wear them. 

 

John nodded, looking up and meeting Sherlock's gaze. "I know," he said quietly. "And I know I said I wasn't going to get these, but..." he trailed off, looking away and towards the ceiling. "I wanted to come home. And if my tags got lost, and they couldn't identify me, then I wouldn't have been returned to you, and I didn't want that," he said quietly, his throat tightening. "I had to come home," he repeated softly, turning his eyes back to Sherlock's.

 

Sherlock blinked once, confused for a moment. Why wouldn't they be able to identify him if he lost his tags, he could just tell- He closed his eyes, letting out a breath. He swallowed thickly, looking down at Hamish and rocking him. "I...I never once...entertained the notion that you would die there John. Not once," he said. "I was afraid but...I never thought about you dying in that place but you...getting those you must have thought..." he said. That was the first step in thinking about giving up, and John had taken it. What if he'd given up then? What would have happened in those caves?

 

John closed his eyes, covering the tattoo with his palm -- not to hide it, but to hold it closer to himself. "Doctors have a white patch with a red cross of the left arm of their fatigues," he said quietly. "And Captains have purple and gold flags on their chest pockets. Every time I wasn't in my bunker, I was marked. I was the biggest, boldest target. Yes, Sherlock. I was expecting to die over there." 

 

Sherlock's jaw tightened a little, and Hamish whined a little while eating, obviously picking up on how ridged he'd gone. He didn't know how to respond to that. John was expecting to die, so when he wrote home...he was at least in part working under the assumption that he wouldn't see Sherlock again. Sherlock never allowed himself the thought that he wouldn't see John...not after last time. That was until John disappeared again, then he became more fearful.

 

John noticed Sherlock's change and sighed, though he refused to apologise for his feelings and for telling the truth. Sherlock had asked, and he had been told. He reached out, touching Sherlock's thigh lightly before rolling onto his sigh. "I know you're mad," he said quietly, "but you wanted the truth and you got it. It's not like I was explicitly trying to die, it's just that I knew it was the most likely outcome."

 

Sherlock nodded, "I know," he said, lifting Hamish up to his shoulder to burp him lightly, moving methodically. "If you were trying to die, or wanted to then you would have. No one would survive what you did if they didn't want to. It's just...I made myself go through each day, take care of the kids...mental illness aside, I thought I was doing it anyway. Because I told myself that you were coming home." he said quietly. When Hamish was done he shifted to lay down, resting the infant on his chest. "And you told yourself that you probably weren't." 

 

"I told you and Katherine, and you told yourself and Katherine, that I was coming home, because that was what you two needed to hear to keep yourselves sane," John said, still turned away from Sherlock, gripping the edge of the bed hard. "You told yourselves that you didn't have to wait long, not even a year and a half, and I would be home. You needed it to get through the day." He swallowed, knowing how wrong this was going to sound. "I told myself that I was probably going to die for the same reasons. It made me enjoy each of your letters more, appreciate each hot, rough, dragging breath that I took while I was over there, and when the time came that I could have died, it made me fight for what I had been appreciating."

 

Sherlock's stomach twisted, and he scooted closer to John, Hamish happily and gently squished between them. "I...I understand. You lied...because it was a lie you needed to tell us," he said. "I do understand John, don't you think I...of all people would? I had to lie to you, only the lie I told was that I was never coming back. And while yours gave us hope and mine pain and mourning...they were both lies that we told to keep each other safe." he said, squeezing John's arm. "But we don't have to lie anymore, alright?" The timer on the oven beeped and he pulled himself out of the bed. "Watch Mish while I set the table?" he asked, quietly leaving the room.

 

John sighed, rolling over and setting his hand on Hamish's back. "Just us again, hm?" he asked, rubbing his thumb between Hamish's shoulder blades. "You'd think that Daddy was purposefully trying to get me to spend more time with you." He sighed again, picking Misha up and rolling onto his back to set him on his stomach.

 

Hamish cooed a little, settling onto John's chest. He pushed himself up on his hands though, lifting up his head and balancing like that. "Ga! Babalbabal..." more drool bubbles before the infant flopped down onto his stomach again, not able to hold himself up for too long.   
  
            Sherlock set the table, fixing Katherine's plate first and cutting up her meat before setting it in front of her booster seat. He put Hamish's high chair up at the table too. While he didn't eat with them, it got him used to it, and he got to see everyone. "John, Katherine, dinner!" he called, pouring everyone some water, and Katherine some juice as well.

 

John let out a long breath, not wanting to get up, not really wanting to move at all. "I guess that's us, Misha," he said quietly, sitting up slowly and then pushing to his feet, holding his son close to his chest. He walked slowly into the kitchen, setting Hamish in his high chair and strapping him in. "Looks good, love," he said, putting on a smile as he sat at the table beside Hamish.

 

Sherlock looked up at John as he settled Hamish into his seat, Katherine skidding into the kitchen after running down the stairs. "Kat, you're going to fall one of these days," he murmured as she scrambled up onto her seat.

"But there's a murder in my doll house! Have to eat fast!" she said, picking up her fork. Sherlock smirked, glancing over at John as he sat down as well. 

 

John cringed a little as he took his seat, hoping that he made it look like a stab of pain by rubbing his leg, though it was really in reaction to Kat's words. He kept his eyes down for a moment, not really wanting to think about it. Katherine wasn't even five years old yet, and she was playing out murders with her dolls. What were they raising her into? He let out a breath, looking up at Kat and giving her a slightly reproving looking. "Now, Katty. Manners, please, baby. No matter how fast you eat, you can't leave the table til we're all done anyway," he reminded her, arching an eyebrow in her direction. 

 

Sherlock noticed the wince, and let out a breath, knowing what it was. He didn't say anything though, perhaps it was time to get Katherine interested in something...non-Sherlockian. Katherine paused with a large bite half way to her mouth. "But Papa," she whined, looking towards Sherlock as if he would let her off the hook. He swallowed, then nodded towards John.

 

"No, you listen to your Papa," he said, face a little warm. So he wasn't particularly experienced in playing dolls. Someone had to play with Kat while John was gone, and one can really sit through so many inane tea parties before something interesting had to happen.

 

"Thanks for supper, love," John said, smiling over at Sherlock. He glanced at Kat out of the corner of his eye, noticing that she had slowed down her eating, a small pout on her face as she sulked. "Oh, Katty, I'm sure the murder will still be there when you get back," he said, stabbing a piece of meat with his fork and chewing it. He had to force himself to slow down, or he would be just as bad as Kat, racing to get out of there and back to his room.

 

Katherine nodded, eating another bite and swinging her feet a little. "Papa? No school tomorrow, you wanna go to the park?" she asked, looking a little hopeful. Sherlock blinked, glancing over at John. They  _could_  technically, John wouldn't be walking too much, to the cab, then to a bench, but it was the stairs that were problematic.

 

John took a small breath, rubbing his cheek. Maybe he was just getting cabin fever, being stuck inside and forced in his bed and the hospital bed before that for so long. He didn't feel himself -- maybe he just needed to get outside. "Sure," he said with a small smile. "We can all go. Get some fresh air." They would have to bundle Hamish up, but he would be fine in a winter coat and a hat.

 

A wide smile spread on Katherine's face as she looked at John. "Yay! Going to the park with Papa, Daddy, and Misha!" she said, bouncing a little in her seat. She swallowed her bite, and continued to eat, while Hamish squealed, recognizing his name. Sherlock smiled, "Maybe after if Papa's not too tired, we'll go out for dinner. Tomorrow's a special day after all," he said with a small wink towards John. 

 

John smiled across the table at Sherlock, giving him a conspiratorial look that would make Katherine more interested. Then he sighed, going back to his food and occasionally lifting his hand to play with Hamish or settle him down. Tomorrow would be a good day. He would make tomorrow a good day, because he was tired of all of these sitting-around-at-home days.

 

Sherlock smirked, and Katherine looked between the two of them. "What? What's tomorrow?" she asked, sitting up a little more. "What's tomorrow?" she asked, thinking really hard. She thought about Christmas, how it wasn't that long ago, then New Year. Her fork clattered to her plate, as she held up her fingers, counting a little on them for a minute. "Oh!" she said, looking up with wide eyes. "Daddy's birthday?! It's Daddy's birthday tomorrow?!" she said, bouncing again.

 

John laughed a little at Katherine's excited reaction, eating a little more of his food and then drinking some water. "It's a good thing we ordered his present last week, isn't it?" he asked, smiling over at Kat, remembering the hour that they had spend alone in the bedroom, shopping online for Sherlock, finally settling on something for him from the kids, and then John had got him something as well. "We'll have to take him out to eat now too, won't we?" John enquired of his daughter. 

 

Sherlock looked over towards John, they'd ordered a gift? He'd have to look at the online history, he thought with a smirk. Katherine giggled, which made Hamish squeal. Obviously he wanted in on the conversation as well. "That's right! I forgot, Daddy's gonna love love love it!" she said, forgetting all about her murder waiting upstairs. "And have to go out, and get Daddy cake!"

 

John grinned, finally starting to feel lighter, despite not quite being outside yet. "What kind of cake should we get him?" he asked, watching Hamish beating his fists happily in the air, his feet kicking at the rest on the high chair. "Chocolate with vanilla frosting?" he asked, just to make Katherine pause to actually think about it. 

 

Katherine thought a little, "Uhhhhhhhhhhhh....Oh! No, white cake, chocolate fwosting, and strawberry stuff in the middle!" she said, grinning at the idea. Sherlock was about to say that he really didn't need a cake, but he didn't want to take away from Katherine's excitement.

 

"That sounds delicious Katty girl," he said with a soft smile, looking over towards John.

 

John smiled, nodding. "I can manage that," he said, planning on sending a quick text to Angelo to ask him for a favour. "Alright, finish your food, Katty," he said. "Not too long before your bedtime, so you'd best enjoy it." He pushed his own plate away, leaning back and sipping from his glass.

 

Katherine sighed, swinging her feet, mood slightly diminished at the mention of bedtime. "Daddy's gonna have best birthday ever. Papa's home...and soon Papa and me's gonna have the bestest birthday ever and I'm going to be  _five_ ," she said quietly, smiling softly as if telling herself this. She finished eating, getting up and setting her plate in the sink. "Gonna go play more," she said before going upstairs. Sherlock looked over at John, glancing at Hamish.

 

"She's very independent," he noted, "Get's that from you I think."

 

John gave a small sigh and a nod, getting up from the table to toss what he didn't eat of his food and then put his dishes in the sink. "Yeah, maybe," he murmured, glancing over his shoulder at Sherlock and arching an eyebrow, who he knew to be fairly independent as well.

 

Sherlock stood up and crossed the kitchen, winding his arms around John's middle and nuzzling against his neck. "Mmlove you," he murmured softly against his skin with a small sigh. Hamish squawked at them, bouncing in his chair, obviously not liking being the only one still sitting. Sherlock sighed, pulling away and lifting the almost four month old up, and holding him in one arm. "I should go change him...get him ready for bed, assuming he sleeps through the night. Not likely."

 

John sighed when Sherlock moved away, wanting to just hold him for a while, to spend some time with him as he never seemed to get to. "I'll meet you in the bedroom, then," he said quietly, squeezing Sherlock's shoulder before he left the kitchen, heading into the bedroom and crawling under the covers.

 

"Be there soon." he murmured after John. He let out a breath, bouncing Hamish lightly. He changed him and put him in some warm pyjamas. Afterwards he moved upstairs to get Katherine ready for bed. "Bath tomorrow I think," he said as he brushed out her hair.

 

"Want say goodnight to Papa," she yawned, hugging her bear.

 

Sherlock hummed, tucking her in. "Papa's already gone to bed, you'll just have to tell him good morning twice tomorrow I should think," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'll tell him goodnight for you," he murmured, carrying Hamish downstairs after bidding her goodnight. He rocked Hamish, setting him into his bassinet. "Katherine says goodnight," he said to John, crawling into bed with him after stripping down to his pants and curling around John.

 

John smiled, wrapping his arms around Sherlock and holding him tightly, nuzzling into his hair and breathing in his sharp scent. "She's a sweet little girl," he murmured, closing his eyes and running his hand over Sherlock's back. "Must get that from me," he teased, kissing Sherlock's forehead and holding him closer. He sighed a little, soaking up Sherlock's warmth and listening to Hamish's small sounds of movement across the room. 

 

Sherlock smirked, "She  _does_  get that from you, just as I get it from you by sheer association alone. Just being around you John...I am a better person for it," he said softly, loving John's touch on his back, relaxing into it. He heard Hamish coo a little, his feet kicking at the bottom of his bassinet. "He's going to be needing a crib soon. He's getting big," he murmured quietly, tucking his head under John's chin as he curled close, humming a bit as his eyes shut.

 

"You were never a bad person, Sherlock," John said firmly, holding his mate close. They were quiet for a few minutes, and Hamish finally settled down completely and then fell asleep. "We can move Kat's old one in here in a bit. She's just storing toys in there right now, anyway," he said, kissing the top of Sherlock's head and continuing to rub his back.

 

Sherlock hummed, "Yes but now...I am better. Because of you. And we'll have to move it down, soon enough he's going to be sitting up, and he'll topple out of that thing." he said, just thinking about it made him want to go upstairs that instant and bring it down, the image of Hamish falling from that height a scary one, that set his instincts on edge. He blinked, "Maybe I should check on him," he said suddenly.

 

"Oh, love," John sighed, shaking his head a little, because he knew that Hamish was fast asleep. But he relaxed his hold on his mate anyway, gesturing for him to get up if he really wanted to. "I'm sure he's fine, but if it will settle your nerves, you can check on him," he murmured quietly.

 

As soon as Sherlock felt John's arms loosen around him he leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips and then rolled out of bed, walking over to Hamish. He peered in, the infant pup asleep, left fist shoved mostly into his mouth and sucking contentedly. He let out a breath, resting his hand on Hamish's stomach for a moment before reaching up and pulling his fist out of his mouth. Hamish cooed a little, shifting for a moment before instantly popping it back into his mouth. Sherlock sighed, "Going to need to get pacifiers I think," he murmured, walking back and curling back up with John. 

 

John welcomed Sherlock back with a warm embrace, snuggling close to him and breathing in his scent. "We can get him a couple," he said quietly, pressing a few kisses to Sherlock's forehead, cheeks, and finally his lips. He let out a soft breath, his eyes closing as he relaxed against his mate. "I can't wait to get out tomorrow," he murmured, his breath shifting through Sherlock's hair. "I don't like being trapped inside. Feel like a caged animal."

 

Sherlock curled close to John, sighing contentedly. "It's a good thing that Katherine suggested it. Good to get you out, get you some air," he murmured quietly. He sighed softly once more, nodding. "Yes, we'll get him some, and tomorrow I can bring down the crib. I want him out of that small little bassinet, it's just not safe." He nuzzled against John's chest, "Not a caged animal, not anymore. Give you a good walk around," he said with a small smile.

 

John gave a small huff of a chuckle, ruffling Sherlock's hair a little. "Oh, you're simply hilarious," he murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Get some sleep, love," he whispered, feeling exhaustion pulling at him. "We've got all day tomorrow to talk."

 

Sherlock hummed. "Well, soon enough we'll get to the point when we don't go to sleep the same time as our four-year-old," Sherlock said. "And perhaps stay up late talking...among other things." He closed his eyes, a soft smile resting on his mouth as he allowed himself to relax some more. "Mmm...my heats wills start again soon...Hamish is almost four months old..." he mumbled, dozing off finally.

 

John let out a small breath, knowing that Sherlock's heats would be starting within the next month. He needed to call his mother and talk to her about watching the kids for them during that time. Finally, he settled down, able to shut off his mind whenever he needed to, and fell asleep, nuzzled into Sherlock's hair to continuously breathe his scent throughout the night.

 

Sherlock fell asleep wrapped up in John's arms, content once more and thinking again how he hadn't slept this well when John was gone. Thankful again that he had him. He woke up in the early morning when Hamish started crying, demanding a diaper change. He blinked his eyes open, rolling over and moving to pick the infant up and carry him over to the changing table, mostly on auto pilot.

 

John groaned at the loss of Sherlock, instantly waking up and seeking him out with his eyes. "That time already, is it?" he muttered, sitting up and scrubbing his eyes, not bothering stifling a loud yawn. Just a few short seconds later, there was pounding feet heard running down the hall, and Kat burst into the room, wrapping her arms around Sherlock's waist.

 

"Happy birthday, Daddy!" she exclaimed, bouncing up and down.

 

Sherlock was just putting a diaper on Hamish and pulling on a clean body suit on him when Katherine all but slammed into him. That woke him up a little. He blinked a few times, looking down at Katherine and giving her a sleepy smile. "Thank you Katty girl," he said, ruffling her bed head, curls as frazzled and poofed up as his probably were. "Let me finish dressing your brother." Katherine nodded, letting go of Sherlock and launching herself at their bed.

 

"Morning Papa!" she said, standing up on the bed and bouncing a little. "Daddy's birthday! Going to the park! And getting cake!" she said.

 

John laughed, able to wake up faster than Sherlock, it seemed. He pulled Katherine into a hug, trying to rein in a little bit of her energy. "Yes, it is, and yes, we are," he agreed, kissing her cheek lightly. "How did you sleep?" he asked, holding her away at arm's length. He always had a hard time believing that she was nearly five. It made him ache for her younger years.

 

Katherine giggled as she was taken up into her Papa's arms. She smiled, hair in a nest and falling into her eyes a little. "Gonna go on a swing, can do it all by myself now. No pushing from Daddy," she said with a proud smile. She settled next to her papa and looked up at the ceiling, smiling. 

 

Sherlock finished dressing Hamish and perched himself on the foot of his bed, setting the infant between his legs. "Almost four months old Mish...how big you are," he said quietly, looking up at John and Katherine.

 

John looked over at Sherlock, smiling when their eyes met. "Katty girl, why don't you go get dressed? Papa can make some French toast when you come back down, how does that sound?" He got off of the bed slowly, stretched, and then held his hand out to his daughter to help her down.

 

Katherine nodded quickly, jumping off the bed after grabbing her Papa's hand. "French Toast!" she said, feet slapping the floor as she dashed down the hall towards the stairs.

 

"Dress warm Katty!" Sherlock called, shaking his head a little as he bounced the small pup in his hands. Hamish was already wearing two layers, and would get a third when they went out, as well as a thick hat. He looked up at John, letting out a breath. "You always were more of a morning person,” he said, yawning again.

 

John laughed, walking over to his mate and wrapping his arms around his neck. "You never were much of a person person. I'm glad that's changed a little," he teased, leaning up on his tiptoes to kiss Sherlock's cheek, trailing a line until he reached his lips and he was able to kiss him firmly, properly, with just the right amount of teeth and tongue. "Happy birthday," he breathed, smiling as he released him.

 

Humming, Sherlock leaned into the kiss, holding Hamish on his lap still. He smiled a little, about to respond when the infant started flailing his fists, demanding attention. "Hey...Misha, you settle down now," he scolded lightly, a smile on his face all the while. His attention moved back to John, "Thank you. I'm just glad I....we get to have you here for it," he said quietly, looking down at Hamish as he laid him on his back between his legs. He smiled down at him, tickling his stomach.

 

"We get Papa here, all to ourselves," he said in a slightly higher voice, talking to the infant.

 

John smiled softly down at his boys, ruffling Sherlock's hair. "I'm going to go start breakfast," he said, running his fingers over Sherlock's cheek before padding down the hall and into the kitchen. He brought out a bowl and mixed up some eggs and cinnamon. Humming to himself, he started cooking, deciding to make some eggs as well about halfway through.

 

Sherlock watched John leave the room. He laid Hamish on his back in the middle of the bed before he stood up to get dressed, keeping an eye on the infant the whole time, should he decide to try and roll off the bed. Hamish did do so, rolling over onto his stomach with ease. He lifted his head, exclaiming in his gibberish language, as if proud at himself for what he'd done. He looked over at Sherlock, and Sherlock gave him a smile. "Well done, Mish, just don't go anywhere yet," he said, buttoning up his shirt and ruffling his hair a little. He'd have to cut it soon. He scooped his son up and walked down into the kitchen, which smelled amazing. 

 

Katherine sped down the stairs a couple minutes later, hair still a mess, but dressed, and ready to eat, already climbing into her booster chair.

 

John smiled at everyone as they filed in, dishing up the French toast onto a plate and putting the eggs on another. He set the table, putting the syrup and the butter in the middle, before setting the food down. "Help yourselves," he said, walking over to the fridge and pouring them all a glass of milk before finally taking his seat and putting a couple pieces of the toast on there as well as some eggs. "There's plenty, so don't hold back," he advised, pouring syrup on his toast.

 

"I won't!" Katherine said, stabbing a piece of the French toast and dragging it onto her plate. Sherlock smiled, reaching over and scooping a bit of eggs onto her plate as well. "Not just the sweets, yes?" he said, smiling at John. He took up one of the smaller pieces of toast, drizzling a bit of syrup onto it before cutting into it with his fork, taking a bite. "Mm...outdone yourself John, I should have you cook more now that you're feeling better," he said with a smirk.

 

John rolled his eyes playfully and chuckled. "I supposed I could. Not that I mind, but you've been doing really well on your own," he said, running his toes up the inside of Sherlock's thigh under the table. "I'm going to have to do some stretches before we leave, but as soon as I'm dressed we can head out," he said, reaching for some more French toast.

 

"I've had to do better with cooking as of late," he said with a shrug, “ I’m still not as good as you. I'm sure it was your mother that was an influence. Cook never let me watch her prepare food, because I might try and steal or taste some." Sherlock smiled when he felt John's foot, then nodded. "Stretches are good, especially before all the walking you'll do today. I'll have to pull out Hamish's pram, and then bundle him up more, then we are set to go once you are," he said, looking towards Katherine.

 

"Now Katty, Papa's coming to the park with us, but he can't run around and play just yet alright? Maybe this summer, hmm?" he asked, making sure she understood. Katherine nodded.

 

"I know Daddy, jus’happy Papa's going!" she said, shoving more of her toast in her mouth.

 

John smiled, stabbing two more pieces of toast and setting them on Sherlock's plate, giving him a pointed look before giving Katherine another piece as well. He finished his French toast and eggs, leaning back in his chair and sipping his milk while everyone else finished eating.

 

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest the toast, and the look but he fell silent, pouting a little. He shouldn't have to be forced to eat on his birthday. He ate about half of one of the slices when Katherine declared herself finished, and that she wanted to go colour something for Sherlock before they left. After she left Sherlock stood and put her plate in the sink, reaching over for his plate, intending to toss the remaining food out.

 

"Sherlock," John said, stopping him and standing, moving around to put his hands on his mate's hips and back him slowly against the counter. "Are you really going to eat so little?" he asked quietly, worried about him. He brushed his lips over Sherlock's throat, licking up the slight trail of syrup that his lips left. "That wasn't much food. Don't make me go all mother hen on you," he teased, nipping at Sherlock's skin just above his collarbone. 

 

Sherlock set the plate aside on the counter, shrugging a little. "Not much of an appetite today," he said quietly, lifting the corner of his mouth slightly. He hummed, leaning his head away from John as he pressed his lips to his neck. "You'd go mother hen anyway," he muttered, leaning away a bit to look at John. "Besides, we're also going out and getting cake apparently, so I'll be eating more later."

 

John ran his fingertips up Sherlock's sides, humming a little as he leaned up to kiss Sherlock gently, pulling away only when Hamish let out a yell at being ignored. "Cake and something decent," he said, walking over to pick up their son. "I can watch him while I'm stretching, if you want," he offered, smiling when Sherlock gave a small nod. "Come join me when you're done, yeah?" he said, backing out of the kitchen and walking back to the bedroom.

 

Sherlock nodded, waiting until John left with Hamish before dumping out the rest of his food. He didn't have an appetite, that much had been true. He let out a breath, then started to clean the kitchen. Once he was done, he made his way down the hall to the bedroom, smiling at a grinning Hamish, who squealed upon seeing him. 

 

John had his foot on the wall above his head, and he was leaning into it to stretch the muscle when Sherlock came into the room. "Quite the Daddy's boy, aren't you, Misha?" he asked kindly, smiling at the infant and then over at his mate before switching to the other leg, setting that foot on the wall above his head. He cringed a little, this leg always worse than the other.

 

"Oh hush you, stretch your leg," he said at John, still smiling. Hamish rolled over on their bed, pushing himself up to his knees and rocking back and forth on all fours. He toppled to his side and let out a frustrated shriek. Sherlock sighed, lifting him up. "It's alright Mish, you'll get there soon enough. And so what if you are a Daddy's boy...it's only fair I get one, since Katty's a Papa's girl," he said, smiling at John slyly.

 

John smiled back, pressing down on his knee until his leg was flat and hissing a little when the muscle and tendons pulled. He held the position for another twenty seconds before slowly relaxing and letting his leg down, walking over to the chest of drawers to start getting dressed.

 

Sherlock sat himself on the bed, sitting Hamish down to face him, put between his legs so he didn't topple over. "Try just sitting up first Mish, you're still a few months or so away from crawling," he told the infant. He carefully let go of the pup, keeping his hands hovering nearby just in case. Hamish wobbled, then started to lean. Sherlock let him fall first so that he learned, and then helped him sit up again. He continued this, glancing up at John occasionally as he got dressed.

 

John didn't worry about pulling on layers, just tugging on jeans and his typical shirt/jumper combination. The cold would be good for him, remind him where he was and help him stay focused. And physically, it actually would be beneficial to his knee. "He's probably going to be far more active than Kat ever was," he said, turning to smile a little at Sherlock as he walked over. "She never really got into much. She was a good baby. He's going to be a little ferret, I bet."

 

Sherlock sat Hamish up again when he fell and nodded. "I know he is," He murmured, standing up and lifting Hamish. "Better bundle you up little ferret." He bounced the infant once as he walked down the hall. He tugged on Hamish's little winter coverall and tucked him in his car seat. His pram was folded up downstairs since they only used it when they went out. "Katherine!" he called up the stairs. "Time to go!" He heard a complaint that she wasn't done colouring, but soon enough he heard feet quickly descending the stairs.

 

John looked after Sherlock for a short moment and gave a small sigh. At least they were both going to be here to raise Hamish. Shaking his head, he walked out after his mate, tugging on his shoes and jacket. He helped Katherine into her coat and boots, kissing her nose before he stood back up. "Everyone ready, then?" he asked, his hand on the doorknob.

 

Sherlock nodded, and Katherine gave an enthusiastic "Yes!" along with a little jump. Sherlock waited until John pulled open the door. He carried Hamish's car seat downstairs. "Think we'll need his pram?" he asked. "We're taking a cab there...I should just be able to carry him I think," he said, pulling open the front door and stepping out. He reached out and grabbed Katherine's hood as she tried to race past him.

 

"Katherine Nicole! What have I said about darting out, you run out into the street and... " he shook his head. This had been a problem with her, she gets too excited, doesn't pay attention, and she'd already almost been hit once. Katherine looked down, almost looking like a kicked puppy. "Katty...it's not safe, you can run in the park alright?"  She nodded a little, not saying anything.

 

John winced as he walked down the stairs, bracing himself heavily on the railing. He heard Sherlock yell Kat's full name and say something about running, and he sighed, wincing as he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, he walked outside, closing the door behind himself. "Daddy's right, Kat," he said, looking up at Sherlock as he walked past to the street. "You need to pay attention." He raised his hand at a cab driving past, and thankfully it stopped. "Alright, in you get," he directed, waving Kat and Sherlock inside.

 

Sherlock ushered Katherine into the cab and then climbed in as well, watching as John eased himself in. Katherine sat opposite Sherlock and Hamish, scooting close to John. Sherlock sighed, "Katty, I'm not angry at you okay? I promise, it's just when you do things like run towards the street it scares Daddy. I don't want you getting hurt," he explained. "The likelihood of that happening is high if you insist on running haphazardly into the street, running is best saved for parks, fields, the playground at school, or the gymnasium," he said, glancing at John.

 

John pulled Katherine onto his lap, tilting her head up so that their eyes met. "Do you understand, baby?" he asked quietly. "If you don't look where you're going, bad things can happen, and Daddy and I don't want to see you get hurt, okay?" He leaned down and kissed her forehead, closing his eyes to banish that thought out of his mind. 

 

Katherine sniffed, then nodded, snuggling close to John. "Understand, Papa," she said quietly, looking over at Sherlock. "M’sorry Daddy...jus'excited about going to the park with Papa." Sherlock let out a breath, then nodded.

 

"I know Katherine, it's alright. We just have to always be careful about such things."

 

John held Katherine close, nuzzling into her hair and closing his eyes. "I love you, sweetheart," he murmured, just enjoying her being close. It didn't matter to him anymore how long he'd been out of the desert. He still saw it, still dreamt it, still remembered it and felt it. But when he was around his family, he was home, and that was all he cared about -- just appreciating time spent with them.

 

Katherine sighed softly. "Love you too Papa, lots and lots." Sherlock smiled at the sight of John cuddling their daughter, looking down and stroking Hamish's cheek lightly with one finger. It was the only bit of the bundled up infant, his cheeks, nose and eyes visible. He thought about saying something, but he didn't want to interrupt them, too busy watching. 

 

John glanced up at Sherlock as he continued to hold Katherine. He smiled at his mate, giving an understanding look with his eyes. They needed a night alone, they really did. He reached into his pocket, sending a text to his mum and asking if they could drop the kids off tomorrow for a play date.

 

_For them or for you? -MW_

 

_Both. -John_

 

John rolled his eyes, grinning as he slipped his mobile back in his pocket.

 

Sherlock was had turned his attention to Hamish to give John and Kat their moment, glancing up when he heard John's mobile going off. He furrowed his brow, trying to deduce who John was texting. It took only a couple seconds to know it had to be his mother, though for what he wasn't sure. Perhaps to visit, they hadn't gone over in a little while, only once since John had come back. And John did need to get out more.

 

John smiled at Sherlock. "I'll tell you later," he promised, kissing the top of Kat's head. The cab started to slow down just then and John fished out his wallet, paying the driver when they had stopped. "No running yet," he reminded Kat, opening the door to let her out.

 

Sherlock nodded, pulling Hamish's car seat closer to him. When the cab stopped Katherine shifted towards the door, shaking her head. "No running yet," she repeated, sliding out of the cab onto the pavement. Sherlock got out on the other side, holding Hamish’s car seat with one hand, waiting for John. John followed Katherine outside, taking her hand and smiling over at Sherlock when he joined them.

 

"Let's go, love," he said, squeezing Katherine's hand, and starting to walk towards the park. 

 

Sherlock followed John and Katherine, catching up and keeping pace. The four-year-old was skipping a bit, her hand still held firmly in John's which put Sherlock a bit more at ease. He sighed, looking up at the sky as they approached the park.

 

"Wanna go swing! Wanna show Papa, can do it by myself now!" she said excitedly.

 

John laughed, letting go of Katherine's hand and giving her a little nudge towards the park. "Alright, go on. You show me," he said, watching her run off and brush a light dusting of snow from the swing before jumping on. John swept the snow from the nearby bench and sat down, holding his hand out to Sherlock.

 

Sherlock smiled, watching Katherine dash towards the swings, pumping her legs to try and get some momentum. It always took her a minute. He took John's hand and sat down next to him, setting Hamish's car seat between them so the infant could see them both. "I think maybe twenty minutes here...no more than half an hour." he said, looking around at the snow that they'd gotten during the night. "I don't want him outside too long," he said, looking down at the visible portion of Hamish's face.

 

"That sounds fine," John agreed, smiling over at Sherlock and squeezing his hand. "Where are we going to go after? Back home, or did you have some place in mind? It is your birthday, after all, though you do have presents to open up." He smiled as he thought about what Katherine had picked out for him, and about what he had got.

 

"I talked to Mum," he said, reaching down and fiddling with Hamish's coat. "She's taking the kids tomorrow as part of your birthday present so that we can have a day to ourselves."

 

Sherlock watched as Hamish wriggled a little in his car seat, reaching out a mitten covered hand towards John and trying to grasp at his hand, though the mitten prevented that for the most part to the infant's frustration.

 

"All day?" he asked, smiling at the thought. They hadn't really had time alone yet except for that first night. In fact, several nights Katherine slipped into their bed and curled close to John, it didn't even wake him up that much anymore when she did it.

 

John nodded, grinning and taking Hamish's hand between two of his fingers. "She's stopping by at eight to take them with her, and she won't bring them back until they've fallen asleep, so that'll be nine, I suppose," he said, glancing up at Sherlock with a wide smile. It would be nice to be alone with him again, to just cuddle and talk and do, well... whatever they wanted. 

 

Sherlock nodded a little, watching Katherine swing back and forth. "Look Papa!" she squealed. "Look at me! You're not watching!" she called over to them. Sherlock smirked.

 

"If I were you I would turn your head, smile and wave, and then offer some encouragement. Don't want to entice her toddler wrath," he said, smiling. He swallowed, feeling a little off, fatigued; it was irritating. It dawned on him then. God...his last heat had been in that damn hospital, and they were always off after having a pup. "Um...John," he said. "Perhaps your mother might have to take them a little longer," he said, realizing that that made sense for his lack of appetite. Warning signs, all there. The next day for sure, if not that night, it would hit.

 

John looked up at Kat when she called to him, and he grinned broadly at her and waved, calling out encouragement. He turned to look at Sherlock, widening his eyes a little, reaching out to take his hand and feeling the warmth seeping through. "Think you can last a couple more hours? We could eat lunch instead of supper, and then I could have Mum come and get them after that," he suggested, linking their fingers together. "You still have those pills, right?"

 

Sherlock nodded, "I'm fine for now. Lunch might be a better idea, if only to get Hamish inside sooner," he said quietly. "And I do...they don't expire for a little while yet." He looked over at Katherine, who was slowing he swing go go over to the slide.

 

"Katherine, it's too slippery for that, I don't want you getting hurt," he called, also not wanting her to get too wet if they were going to a restaurant. "She has the day planned though...Sending her and Mish away for the rest of my birthday..." he said quietly, not wanting to upset her. Though he knew that at this point, it was too late to even try and suppress it. Maybe if he had a whole day to plan, but he didn't.

 

"I'll go talk to her," John volunteered, squeezing Sherlock's hand again and standing up. "Why don't you call Angelo's and reserve us a table?" he suggested, smiling at Sherlock before walking over to Kat and sitting next to her on the swings. Sherlock nodded once in response, pulling out his phone as he cast a look up at Katherine as she returned to the swings. It wasn't hard to get a table, Angelo always seemed to have one for him.

 

"Hey, baby," John said, smiling at Katherine. "I know you wanted to go to supper with Daddy, but is lunch okay instead? We can still have cake, but Daddy isn't feeling good and he wants to be home tonight."

 

Katherine looking over at John, blinking a couple times. "Papa's sick? On his birthday?" she asked, looking over at the bench where Sherlock sat. "Lunch is good. Then f’dinner, can make Daddy soup, and then we can read and can tuck him in," she said, smiling at her Papa. "I can be a doctor too. Then Papa and me can watch telly cause Misha's gonna be asleep too cause he's a baby." 

 

"Unless Daddy gets really sick," John said, already wishing that Kat was older so that he could actually talk to her about these things and not jump around them. "Then you and Misha are going to have to spend some time with Gran until he gets better, okay?" he offered, knowing that Kat was going to be disappointed, but not knowing any other way around it.

 

Katherine thought a moment, then nodded. "But Daddy won't. Gonna take care of him and he won't get really sick, just a little bit." She said, as if she were sure of this. She slid off the swing, shoving her mittens back onto her hands since she'd taken them off to grip the chains of the swing. "Misha's gonna get cold, and Daddy's sick. Should be warm,” she said, waiving her Daddy over. 

 

Sherlock saw her and stood, picking up Hamish. "We ready to go?" he asked.

 

John couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and frustration at his daughter. She was almost scarily like him, and yet frighteningly like Sherlock as well. It made him nervous to think about how Hamish was going to grow up to act. "Yeah, we are," John said, nodding and taking Katherine's hand so that they could walk over to him. "Katty says she wants to take care of you, so we're going to go eat and get out of this cold.”

 

  _'You're sick,'_  he mouthed silently at Sherlock, quickly enough that Kat couldn't see him.

 

Sherlock nodded a bit, then quickly sniffed as if he might have a stuffy nose. "Well I'm glad that I've got our Katty girl to take care of me," he said with a smile, clearing his throat for effect. Katherine smiled, then threw her arms around his waist. Sherlock ran his fingers through her hair gently, then nodded. "Well let's go so your brother doesn't get cold," he said, as they walked towards the road. Sherlock hailed a cab and slid in, Katherine settling next to him this time, obviously not sulking anymore about him raising his voice at her.

 

John smiled across the cab at them, setting Hamish's car seat next to himself so that Sherlock and Kat would have more room. He turned his attention to his son a few seconds later, lightly poking his nose with the tip of his finger and delighting in the way he got overly excited about it and tried to catch it. "If he didn't have these mittens on, he'd have my finger in a death hold," he said to no one in particular, still smiling softly down at Hamish. 

 

"He likes feeling like he's in control of things,” Sherlock said softly as he pulled Katherine close to him. He felt a little warm, but he was okay still. He swallowed, playing with her curls again. Hamish squealed a little, his mitten covered hands thrashing a little as he tried to grab once more giggling and babbling again. Sherlock gave the address to the restaurant and the cab pulled away from the park, turning down the road.

 

John grinned, giving Hamish his finger. "He sounds like a couple people I know," he said quietly, winking. He pulled out his phone after a short while, texting his mother again, and he got an instant reply back saying that she would be over before supper time to pick up the kids.

 

"Well  _I_  can't imagine where he gets it from," Sherlock said with a smirk. Sherlock pulled out some money from his wallet as the cab got close to the restaurant, and when it stopped he paid the driver then lifted Hamish's car seat. The infant alone was fine for John to carry, but in his car seat Sherlock was worried it would be too heavy. He got out of the cab and then held out a hand for Katherine. John huffed a little to himself when Sherlock took Hamish, but he didn't vocalise it. He slid out of the cab after Katherine, wincing a little as he did but ignoring it. He was too happy to be outside and too eagerly awaiting tonight to pay any attention to a small amount of pain.

 

"I'll get the door!" Katherine exclaimed, tugging open the door the restaurant and pushing it open, leaning against it to hold it in place as Sherlock and John both walked through. They were greeted as per usual and lead to their table by the window. Sherlock slid into the booth and pulled Hamish out of his car seat, pulling off his winter layer, since the restaurant was so warm. The infant babbled happily at finally having his hands freed, reaching up and grabbing fistfuls of Sherlock's hair and tugging.

 

John laughed, reaching over and gently pulling Hamish's hands away. "Such a rude baby you are," he scolded gently, giving his son his fingers to play with as opposed to Sherlock's hair. "You're going to be a pain as a preteen, I'm sure," he teased, smiling up at Sherlock. "We'll be able to handle you though."

 

Sherlock smiled, then stood to get a small highchair. He set it at the edge of the table then placed Hamish's car seat a top it. The grooves at the bottom of it meant for shopping carts and the base the seat came with settled onto the seat with ease. "For when the food comes," he said, sitting back down. Katherine scooted closer to his side, and cuddled into it. Sherlock shrugged off his coat, too warm for it, especially with an affectionate toddler at his side. He looked up at John, his lips a little pinker than normal.

 

John's lips flattened a little, but he didn't say anything. He knew that they would be cutting it close, but they were doing this for Katherine and for some normality, and they could both suffer a little for that. He would only call it off short if Sherlock's scent started spreading, in which case the whole thing became a safety issue. But up until that point...

 

"Hello, lads," Angelo said, stopping by with a smile. "What can I get everyone tonight, do we know?" 

 

Sherlock looked up at Angelo, then down at Katherine who simply nodded, "The chicken Parmesan for her I think Angelo," he said, that's what she normally got.

 

"It's Daddy's birthday today Angelo!" Katherine announced, grinning widely. Sherlock let out a breath, then smiled a bit. He looked towards John, telling him non-verbally that he could order, not ordering anything for himself.

 

John sighed a little, ordering the shrimp alfredo and glasses of water for everyone. He nodded at Angelo as he walked away, then looked over at Sherlock. "How are you feeling, love?" he asked quietly, giving him a hard look to know that he wanted a straight answer.

 

Sherlock hummed a little, blinking a couple times and looking at John. "I'm fine," he said automatically, rubbing Katherine's arm a little. "Perfectly fine..." he repeated, looking down at their daughter who sat up a little. She reached out and touched his cheek, her fingers feeling cool to the touch.

 

"Daddy...you're warm." she said, hugging him again. "I'm sorry you're sick on your birthday," she said quietly.

 

John sighed again. They wouldn't be able to open presents, then. It would just have to be home and then waiting for his mum to come get the kids. "Not getting any better, then," he said quietly, looking over at him with a bit of pity.

 

Sherlock blinked, hugging Katherine to his side more. He reached over for his glass of water when it was brought by and drank half of it down, the cool water feeling nice going down his throat. He would hold it off, he would be fine. He wasn't going to let something as stupid as biology ruin Katherine's birthday that she'd planned for him. 

 

Their food arrived quickly enough, Angelo's wasn't a particularly busy place at lunch, and he helped Katherine by cutting her chicken into smaller bites. He stole a couple pieces for himself as if to show John he was okay by eating.

 

John ate his food, playing with a curious Hamish while he did, letting the infant hold his hand and pull on his fingers. Katherine ate quickly, and John managed to eat half of his dish. He was just playing with the remainder when Angelo came out with pieces of cake for them, a candle stuck in Sherlock's. John grinned at the obvious flush of embarrassment that went across Sherlock's cheeks, and then they sang him 'Happy Birthday,' Kat a little off-key, but it was still good. 

 

Sherlock felt his face warm even more when the cake came, looking at the candle in his. He put on a smile though, seeing the filling in the centre that Katherine had suggested. He blew out his candle and pressed a kiss to Katherine's head, taking up a fork and eating a bite. He would make himself eat the cake, Katherine's cake that she'd picked for him, even if he didn't have an appetite.

 

John let out a small breath, glad that Sherlock was eating  _something_ , even if it was cake. He ate his piece as well, offering a tiny bit to Hamish, who mashed it around in his mouth and then spit it out. "Yeah, I know that's not what you want," John said quietly, glad that Hamish hadn't started fussing for food yet. He was actually being quite good for how he normally was.

 

Sherlock looked up when he heard Hamish make a disgruntled noise at the bit of cake that was offered to him. He finished his cake quickly, picking up his small coat. "Here, he's probably going to be hungry soon. Should get him home," he hummed.

 

"Come on, Katty. Let's get your coat on," John said, standing up and leaving money for their meals. He smiled brightly at Kat and kissed her gently as he helped her into her coat, then put his own back on, taking her hand as they waited for Sherlock and Hamish. "Ready, love?" he asked when everyone had coats on and the kids had their mittens on as well.

 

Sherlock nodded, lifting Hamish's car seat up and then carrying him outside when they left, bidding Angelo farewell. He hailed a cab, climbing in and settling the infant next to him, cracking the window a bit and letting the cool air land on his face as he hummed.

 

John checked his watch, glancing up at Sherlock. "It's been two hours. Do you think you can hold off for presents before I put you to bed?" he asked, wrapping his arm around Katherine and holding her tightly against him.

 

Katherine blinked a couple times, tilting her head up to look at her Papa. "Bed? But just had lunch...s'not naptime yet," she said, glancing over at where Sherlock was sitting, the cool breeze brushing against his hot skin.  His eyes were closed and he hummed again, rocking Hamish's seat a small bit.

 

"Daddy's sick, though, Katty," John said gently. "He needs to rest. It might even be a little mean of us to ask him to open up presents," he said, trying to be the voice of reason, because he knew that Sherlock would just brush it off, and Kat would continue to deny it.

 

Katherine looked over at her Daddy again, then looked down. "I don'want be mean to daddy," she said quietly, rubbing her nose. "This mean I go to Gran's?" She asked, looking up at John. 

 

Sherlock's hand had moved from rocking Hamish gently to resting his hand on him protectively, opening his eyes and looking at Katherine. He let out a breath, feeling a bit of anxiety where the children were concerned, not sure where it came from.  _Hormones_...he reminded himself. That and the last heat he'd had he'd been locked up in a hospital right after having his children taken away from him. He swallowed, just the thought of that...made his heart speed up a little.

 

John nodded, putting on a sad face for Kat so that she knew that he felt bad for her. "Yes, it does, baby. I'm sorry. Hopefully it'll pass by tomorrow, and if not, I'm sure it'll be over in a couple days," he assured her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. He looked up at Sherlock, frowning a little at how tense he had gotten so quickly, how his hand was braced over Hamish's chest. "But you'll have fun at your Gran's, I'm sure of it," he said to Katherine with a bit of a smile. "She might even take you to the cinema, if you're lucky."

 

Katherine nodded a little, "Maybe can go see Frozen!" she said hopefully, smiling a bit at the thought. "But Daddy can't open the presents till we get back," she said, looking over at Sherlock.

 

Sherlock nodded once, wetting his lips, running his fingers over Hamish's belly, still keeping his hand on him. He looked at John, tongue flicking over his lips once more. He didn't want them to get sent away, he didn't want them to get taken away. Not again, they were his... _his._

 

"Daddy won't, I'll make sure of it," John promised. He caught Sherlock's look, the wide eyes rimmed with fear and possessiveness. It was a half and inch away from terrifying. He sighed a little, looking up when they neared the flat, and he was happy to see that his mum wasn't there yet, but he knew that she would be close. It was pushing the two-hour mark. John paid the cabbie when they stopped, taking Kat's hand and getting out with her, holding the door for Sherlock.

 

Sherlock got out of the cab, picking up Hamish and carrying him inside. He undid the straps and peeled the infant out of his thick layers, holding him close to his chest, both arms wrapped around him. He was warm, but he wouldn't take off his coat, he'd have to put Hamish down to do that. He smiled weakly at Katherine after she bounded up the steps, and sat on the sofa, feeling a bit better when she climbed onto the sofa and curled next to him.

 

"Love you Daddy," She said quietly. Sherlock wrapped one arm around her.

 

"Love you too Katty girl...my Katty," he said, a bit of sweat on his brow.

 

John looked over at his three people, his small but perfect pack. He sighed when he noticed how hot Sherlock was, but he wouldn't say anything, knowing that the hormones racing through him were simply familial now, and that they would eventually change to breeding hormones, and as much as he would want to not, Sherlock would forget about their pups for as long as it took to satisfy his biological needs. But still, it would be better to get the kids out before that happened.

 

Sherlock looked up at John when he came into the living room and hung up his coat. He let out a breath, relaxing a little with him there. He played idly with Katherine's hair, nuzzling their son's head and taking in their scents. His eyes widened a little when he heard the doorbell though and he remembered. He held them a bit tighter, eyes shooting up to look at John,  _you're not taking them away,_ he thought at John. Not again...

 

"Mrs. Hudson," John called down the stairs. "Can you let my mother in, please?" There was a pause before he heard the landlady answer that she would. He didn't want to leave Sherlock alone right now, not when he was being so defensive. "Love," he whispered soothingly, walking over to him. "Nothing's going to happen to them, and you'll be getting them back," he promised, carding his fingers gently through Sherlock's hair. "Katty, will you go get your boots on, please?" he asked calmly, glaring at Sherlock until he released her. "They want to go, love. It's alright. You need this and so do they."

 

Katty tried to sit up when asked, but Sherlock held tightly onto her. He flinched under John's glare though and his hold lightened a little. Katherine stood up, walking over and pulling on her boots, glancing uncertainly over at her parents.

 

Sherlock didn't want to let her go, but she'd pulled away before he could hold onto her again. He wrapped his free arm up and around Hamish, shaking his head a little. "No..." he breathed in a small whisper, Katherine letting out a squeal of excitement when she poked her head into the stairs and saw her grandmother. "Please don't...don't take them....not again." he said, swallowing a bit.

 

"They're not being taken from you, Sherlock," John assured, soothing his hand through Sherlock's curls and leaning down to kiss his forehead. He glanced up when his mum walked in, watching as she started to wordlessly help Kat into her coat. "You're just going to spend some time with me, yeah?" He put his hands around Hamish, gently tugging. "Let me have him, Sherlock. He's just going with his Gran, and they're coming back in two days, I promise."

 

Sherlock tensed when John pulled at Hamish gently, and his face crumpled a little, nuzzling more into the soft blond hair. "Mish...my Mish...please..." he begged quietly, feeling too warm, not able to think past anything more than his children,  _his_  pups. He couldn't let go of him, he couldn't...

 

John straddled Sherlock's thighs as best as he could, still holding onto Hamish as he did so. "Sherlock," John growled lowly, leaning in so that his teeth were close to his mate's neck. "I _will_  fight you over this, but I don't want to hurt our pup. Let him go, now," he commanded, his voice and scent resonating his dominant place as Alpha and protector, his teeth bared in case Sherlock forced him to bite.

 

Sherlock leaned back into the sofa, and he heard Katherine call out a quiet "Daddy?" before Mindy ushered her downstairs. Sherlock was trembling a little, mind stuttering as he struggled on what to do. He cowered more into the sofa but this was Hamish, his son. He couldn't lose him. "Please..." he begged quietly, feeling Hamish start to fuss a little at being held as he was. The sound of him fussing almost pained Sherlock and he tried to lean away from John, wriggle out from under him.

 

_Fucking hell, Sherlock,_  John swore to himself, not wanting to do this, but he had threatened, and he had to follow through. He bit down hard on Sherlock's neck, catching his windpipe with his lower jaw and pushing it back, causing his mate to lose a bit of his breath. He tasted blood, and Sherlock tried to pull away again. John pinned him with his thighs and knees, pushing him down into the sofa until he was completely on top, and Sherlock's muscles were slowly relaxing in his fight for air. He pulled Misha against his chest and jumped away from Sherlock, cradling his son against his chest as he licked the small bit of blood from his mouth. With a long suffering sigh, he took his son downstairs, said goodbye to Kat, and then returned to his mate in the living room.

 

Sherlock yelped a little, but the sound was cut off as his air was. His eyes were wide and he struggled as much as he could, pinned beneath John. John had never pinned him like this, not like  _this._  He saw spots on his vision after a minute, and he felt his grip loosen from around his son, who's fusses had got louder in the movement. He went limp right around when John pulled away, Sherlock's hands now empty. Sherlock gasped, sucking in a lungful of air and coughing, his neck throbbing. John had already gone when Sherlock realized that his hands were in fact empty, and pained noise came from him as he curled up on the sofa and started to sob, shaking, neck still bleeding a bit.

 

John sagged when he saw how distraught Sherlock was, and he knew that he hadn't made it any better, but it was his job to protect his family first, and he  _knew_  that as soon as Sherlock went into full heat, the pups would all but be abandoned. Still, he had never felt like such an animal before, had never taken his Alpha nature that far, and he felt wrong about it. "I'm so sorry, love," John whispered, sitting beside Sherlock on the sofa after he had shut and locked the door. "They'll be back, I promise," he murmured, reaching out to rest his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

 

Sherlock let out another sob, curling up tightly on the sofa. They were his... _his..._ he could take care of them. He'd proven that, hadn't he? He hiccupped a little, pushing himself off of the sofa and going quickly to the window, seeing a cab pull away, a whine rising in his throat, which now that it was exposed showed the bleeding teeth marks and the bruising starting to form. His eyes were rimmed with red and wide, already starting to get a bit of a haze in them from the heat building up.

 

John stood up, walking over to Sherlock and wrapping his arms around his waist. He rose up on his tiptoes, licking a little at the bite on his neck, Sherlock's thickening scent getting to him already. "No one's mad at you, or blaming you for anything," he murmured, slowly taking Sherlock's coat off of him and tossing it onto the chair. "Come on. They're being taken care of. Let me take care of you."

 

Sherlock winced at the feeling of John's tongue on his bite, it stung. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. John's bites were always to his mark,  _their_  marks...this one...wasn't that. He whined a little, leaning back against John a bit, still wanting them back, but it was slightly less noticeable now, getting replaced by something else. 

 

"Come on," John said softly, consumed by regret at what he had done and just wanting to make up for it. He took Sherlock's hand, tugging on it gently until he took a step, and then he led his mate towards the bedroom, directing him towards the bed until Sherlock was sitting. "I'm sorry," he repeated, tilting Sherlock's chin up so that their eyes met. "I'm so sorry. You know I wouldn't hurt you on purpose." His eyes flicked down to the fresh bite on Sherlock's neck and he flinched, knowing that that had been a little extreme. He cupped Sherlock's face in his hands, closing his eyes and tilting their foreheads together. 

 

Sherlock blinked, following John as he lead him down the hall, sitting down when directed. He wouldn't argue with John now. He looked up and met John's eyes, blinking dazedly. He swallowed, "Mm'know..." he said quietly, his head leaning against John's. He hummed, taking a breath in and that's when John's scent hit him. He blinked a couple times, leaning a little closer to him, not able to be angry at him for taking away Hamish.

 

John hummed, sighing with relief that he could deal with a heat-possessed Sherlock and not a grief-stricken Sherlock. He could do that later, he supposed. He leaned in, pressing their lips together and tasting Sherlock on his tongue, his Omega's strong scent filling his nostrils and pushing him to react. His fingers quickly worked at the buttons of the shirt Sherlock was wearing, pushing it from his shoulders and nearly tearing it from his arms. "You're mine," he whispered. "And I love you, and I've missed you, and I'm going to have you, right here and right now, understand?" he asked, nipping and sucking on Sherlock's bottom lip as his hands moved down Sherlock’s torso.

 

Sherlock leaned into John's lips, gasping a bit as his shirt was torn off him. He leaned back a bit more on the bed, licking his lips and looking down at John's hands. He let out a breath, the pain in his neck reminding him that what John said right now, went. He nodded, he'd missed John as well, and his arms wrapped around him tightly. "Mmlove you too...always..." he breathed, already feeling himself become hard.

 

John growled a little, picking Sherlock up and placing him in the centre of the bed. He kissed him again, roughly, knowing that that was how this first time was going to be. Fast and hard. It had been too long, and now Sherlock was in heat, and he was all but fresh from the war, and they both  _needed_  this. There was going to be no waiting involved. He dragged his teeth down gently the front of Sherlock's chest, his hands working at the button and zip of his trousers. He pulled them and his pants off, tossing them to the floor before he crawled back up Sherlock's body, biting at his sensitive spots and rolling his hot tongue over his nipples.

 

Sherlock laid back on the bed, his knees on either side of John's hips. He brought them tighter onto either side of him, hugging his hips with his knees. He moaned when John bit gently at his nipples and chest. His back arched a small bit, and he could already feel a bit of dampness come from him. "Mm...John," he whined, running his hands up John's back and tugging his shirt.

 

John tugged his shirt off at Sherlock's tugging, throwing it to the floor. "God, I've missed you," he said, his voice low and husky, full of lust and need and love and too many other things to note. He leaned down to kiss Sherlock again, sliding their tongues smoothly together as he undid his jeans, pulling them and his pants down just enough to get his erection out. He didn't have the patience for anything else. 

 

Sherlock ran his hand down John's chest, feeling his scar, his new ones...seeing his tags and the other tattoo. He ran his hands over all of them. "Mm-missed you too," he panted, grinding up against him with a moan, shivering a bit. He hugged his legs around John's middle tightly, then clung onto him with his arms. 

 

John looked down at his marked and marred body, knowing that he still bore the weight of every one of those injuries, but Sherlock made him better. Sherlock was his medicine, always. He growled possessively, burying his face in the crook of Sherlock's neck so that he could breathe him in, reaching between them so that he could line up his cock with Sherlock's entrance. "Ready, love?" he asked, slowly pushing in until he was seated all the way. He groaned at the feeling of  _finally_  being inside of Sherlock again, shuddering at the way his inner muscles fluttered around him before he started moving, drawing out all the way and thrusting back inside.

 

Sherlock let out a shaking breath, sucking it in sharply when John pressed against him and then into him slowly. He moaned, eyes closing as John sank into him. He wet his lips, pulling his eyes open and looking at John as he pulled out, then back in quickly, ripping the breath from Sherlock. "I...god... _John..."_ he moaned, leaning his head back into the bed. Nearly there...nearly perfect. "Please..." 

 

John moaned, lifting Sherlock's leg higher and biting along his neck, leaving small red marks as he pounded into him. He could smell how much Sherlock needed this, could feel how wet he was and how desperate. He still regretted his display of dominance earlier, but now he was glad for it, because if the kids were home for this… "Oh, fuck, Sherlock," he groaned, pushing his thrusts harder, deeper.

 

Sherlock gasped, crying out a small bit as John slammed into him. His eyes rolled back in his head and he reached down with one hand to try and stroke himself, needing the friction. "Please...John I can't...reach," he said, moving his arm to weave around John's arm to try and take himself in hand.

 

"I've got you," John promised, managing to keep his thrusts while he reached between them and took Sherlock in hand, stroking him in time with his thrusts. He could already feel his knot swelling, which was testament to how much they both had needed this. "Come on, love. Come for me," he growled, nipping at Sherlock's earlobe.

 

Sherlock's hands balled up into the blankets of the bed, and then he lifted them up to rest on the sides of John's neck. He moaned, fingers weaving up into his hair, gripping it. When John nipped at his ear he moaned, tugging at John's hair as his body tightened and shook as he came. "Jo-hn!" he cried, biting down on his lip a little, tasting a bit of blood.

 

John slammed into Sherlock, his knot filling rapidly as he came hard, Sherlock's muscles tightening around him to hold him in place. "God, fuck," he gasped, resting his forehead against Sherlock's shoulder and panting as he continued to roll his hips, gently stimulating Sherlock's prostate until he knew it would be too much. He then wrapped his arms around Sherlock and flipped them so that he was on his back and Sherlock was settled on top.

 

Sherlock was trembling all over, blinking rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. He stayed limp, a whine coming from him as John rubbed against his prostate and then rolled them over. He rested his head on John's chest, swallowing. The haze lifted a bit, and he could actually think a little, feeling the throb in his neck that wasn't just his pulse, but the bite there. 

 

John combed his fingers through Sherlock's hair, running his other hand down Sherlock's back. God, it felt like ages since they had last done this. It had been a year.  _Holy shit, it's been a whole fucking year_. He leaned up, kissing Sherlock's forehead gently and nuzzling into his hair. "I love you," he breathed, dropping his head back, the movement making his tags slide down his scarred shoulder to the bed.

 

Sherlock hummed, "Mmlove you too," he said, lifting his head at the sound of the tags. He reached up and lifted them up off of John's head, and draped them around his neck. "Those are mine." he breathed, resting his head down again and touching John's tattoo of his tags. "Got used to wearing them I guess...I'd been looking....for them though," he said. He'd been worried that he'd lost them. 

 

John chuckled lightly, holding Sherlock close to him. "Sorry. I nicked them from your nightstand and put them on one day when I felt a panic attack coming on. I forgot to take them off," he said quietly. He shifted a little with Sherlock touching his skin tags, uncomfortable with being examined so closely, especially with as many new scars as he had marking his body.

 

"Stop," Sherlock mumbled, touching John's tattoo again. "This is the first time...I've actually been able to see you, really see you. Since you got back...it's like you hide from me or something," he said, closing his eyes. God he was spent...and he knew there was likely another wave or two, but for now he felt nice, though there was still the ache, feeling something not there, not right. He realized though that it was Hamish's bed...it was too quiet. "We need...to bring down that crib," he mumbled.

 

"I do hide from you," John said quietly. "I don't want you to see how bad it is, how damaged I am." He let out a heavy breath, cradling Sherlock's head against his shoulder. "Just sleep, love. We can talk later, and we can bring down the crib before Hamish gets home," he promised, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's temple.

 

"S'not fair..." Sherlock mumbled drowsily. "I came home....and you saw, every scar...every mark." He thought about the brand on his shoulder that he'd turned into his mate's initials. His eyes pulled closed and he nuzzled against John's chest, not wanting to fall asleep, but not able to help it either. 

 

John sighed, staring at the ceiling and holding Sherlock close. No, it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all, but what else could he offer? He didn't acknowledge the scars because he wanted to forget about them, and he certainly didn't want to hand over that kind of weight to his mate, his love. Sherlock had enough on his plate, enough to carry around on his shoulders. He didn't need to be carrying all of John's emotional trauma as well. 

 

Sherlock dozed for a little bit, stirring slightly when John's knot receded and he withdrew from him, Sherlock shifting to be at John's side, still cuddled close. It was about an hour or so later when he woke up, blinking his eyes open blearily and lifting his head to look at John. "Mm...was that my birthday present?" he asked, tracing a small scar lightly, smiling dazedly up at John.

 

John laughed, leaning down to kiss Sherlock lightly. "No," he said quietly, shaking his head a little. "Your present from me is wrapped and has a bow on it, waiting to be opened," he murmured, combing his fingers through the back of Sherlock's hair. "I should get some peroxide to put on your neck," he said quietly, looking over the bite mark that he had placed on his mate.

 

Sherlock hummed. "That's what I thought you were...jumper counts as a bow in this case, yes?" he asked with smile. He blinked, reaching up and touching his neck lightly, wincing as he did. "I...I'm sorry, I don't know what I was...they'd just been taken once already, and the heat I had in that hospital…locked in a room alone, just like when I was in  _that place,_ " he said, swallowing thickly. "It was so much worse because they were gone," he said, voice cracking a little, Christ his hormones during a heat were tedious, and he was on the verge of tears now.

 

"Hey," John whispered, rolling over so that he was braced partially above Sherlock. "Love, I don't blame you. I really don't. I probably would have done the same in that situation. I'm sorry for acting how I did. That could have been handled a lot more eloquently," he said quietly. He pressed a long, sweet kiss to Sherlock's lips, drawing back and wiping a tear away. "Let me go get that," he whispered, slipping from the bed and returning with the peroxide and the small box he had got Sherlock for his birthday. "I figure you can open this one," he murmured, dabbing at Sherlock's neck. "Kat doesn't know about it."

 

Sherlock nodded a little, sitting up when John left and leaned against the headboard. He took the box in hand, looking at it for a moment. Sherlock winced as the cotton ball John held touched his neck, hissing a little in pain. Wetting his lips, he pulled the lid off of the box and let out a breath.

 

Inside was a single card printed on thick card stock. He lifted it up, the front read "You're invited..." in distinctive cursive. Lifting the card up from the bottom to open it he read the card, "To celebrate the joining of Dr. John Hamish Watson and Mr. William Sherlock Scott Holmes in marriage. Coming in the Spring." 

 

Sherlock blinked a few times, almost feeling more tears building up but he pushed them aside. "You...you've made it sound like a film...coming in the spring..." he hiccupped, giving a watery smile towards John.

 

John smiled over at Sherlock, reaching out to gently cup his face. "I am marrying you, Sherlock Holmes. I've been talking to Mum and Mrs. Hudson, and they're planning it and doing the decorating. We just need to pick a couple of things and let them do the rest," he said quietly, leaning forward to kiss Sherlock lovingly. "I didn't want you to forget," he said spinning his ring and reaching out to touch Sherlock's as well.

 

"I couldn't," he murmured quietly, touching his ring lightly. He hummed a little, "Pick out what?" he asked, running his hands down John's chest lightly. He couldn't stop touching him, being close to him. "What kind of things...cake? Tuxes? I...I don't know anything about that kind of stuff," he said, looking up at John.

 

John hummed at the touch, melting into it even though his instinct was to flee and hide away. "No, no. I think just... colours. You and I should pick the colours, and then we can leave everything else up to Mum and Mrs. H," he said quietly, leaning over to press a kiss to Sherlock's lips. "We won't have to worry about much."

 

Sherlock felt John tense slightly and looked up at him. "Don't go anywhere...Please John, don't feel like you need to run," he said, clinging onto him tightly. "I don't care about colours. Purple...and...and yellow or something."

 

John shushed Sherlock gently, turning to kiss him properly. "I won't run from you anymore," he promised. He chuckled a little at the colours Sherlock mentioned. "Those don't really seem like us. How about silver and blue and shades of gold?" he offered, kissing up Sherlock's cheek.

 

Sherlock hummed against John's lips, then furrowed his brow at the response. "How can colours seem like one person let alone two?" he asked, confused. "Hmm...silver and blue...some gold...okay," he said, not really caring really what colours they did. Did colours really matter so much? "What else will we have to do?"

 

John chuckled. "It's the way that they are, I guess. Neither of us are very vibrant, are we? And yellow and purple are pretty vibrant colours." He nuzzled against Sherlock's cheek, moving so that he was hovering above Sherlock, his body not hurting so much now that he had his mate to focus on. "I think we'll just have to try on our suits. And write our own vows," he said, kissing Sherlock again, lightly. "But that should be all."

 

Sherlock hummed, closing his eyes as John kissed him. He pulled his eyes open, meeting John's gaze. "Sounds good to me only I...I'm not much of a writer..." he said softly. He braced his hands on John's chest, not wanting him to fall. He knew John ached so much everyday, but it didn't seem to bother him so much right now.

 

John smiled, kissing Sherlock again and running his fingers over his cheek. "That's fine. I'm sure you can find help from someone. Molly or Lestrade, maybe," he offered, lightly kissing up the bridge of Sherlock's nose and finally his forehead. "Doesn't have to be very long."

 

Sherlock sighed softly, then shook his head. "No...no I want to write it myself. That's something that I should do. Seems like it." He let out a breath, looking towards Hamish's bassinet.

 

John tilted Sherlock's head back towards him, meeting his gaze. "I know," he said quietly. "I know you want him, but you and I both know that you have at least one more round in you, and then it'll slowly wear off." He kissed Sherlock slowly, cupping his cheek and lowering his weight slowly onto the Omega's body. "Can't have him back until then. It wouldn't be safe," he murmured, carding his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

 

Sherlock let out a breath, a low whine in his chest. "I know...I know that I just...Katty sounded so upset when I....when I wasn't myself," he said quietly. He leaned into John's hand, humming slightly. "I love you...and I'm sorry I did that. God, I could have hurt him.”

 

"You weren't thinking," John whispered, continuing to kiss Sherlock, trailing his lips over his jaw and down his neck, taking his time to relearn his mate's body. "You weren't yourself, and that's okay," he said, still combing his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "There's a reason that Alphas can still comprehend things when Omegas go into heat."

 

Sherlock looked down, "I'm still sorry...I don't like not being in control of myself," he said, "Who decided that Omega's had to be the ones that had to be controlled, that they couldn't control themselves?" he said shifting on the bed. He cleared his throat, easing John over to his side. "Can't lay...on me like...s'too warm," he said, starting to warm up again.

 

John hummed, kissing Sherlock's shoulder. "Sorry, love," he murmured, looking up at him. "And I don't know who decided, but it's biology as well. Omegas just are like that. When they get into heat, their hormones mess with their minds, and they can't think clearly."

 

"I know." Sherlock mumbled, closing his eyes. "I don't like things messing with my mind. But it's nice...having you here when they do, or even when they don't," he said, smiling. 

 

John laughed, nuzzling against Sherlock's neck and inhaling his scent. "I like being here all the time," he said quietly, pressing kisses under Sherlock's jaw and grazing his teeth along the bone. "I go a little crazy without you," he murmured.

 

"Mm’do too. Or maybe the hospital stay wasn't obvious enough." He let out a breath, feeling warmer already. In a second he was on top of John, nuzzling into his chest, practically purring. "I love you," He breathed.

 

John let out a low hum, carding his fingers through Sherlock's hair and arching up a little. "God, I love you too," he murmured, running his hands down Sherlock's neck to his shoulders. "You gunna ride me this time?" he asked with a smirk, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at Sherlock.

 

Sherlock blinked a few times, finding it hard to think. "I don't know, whatever you want," he said, dipping down to nip gently at John's chest and neck, purring again. "Want you...please," he begged quietly, rocking forward a bit on John's hips. He rolled off of John, kissing down his chest, almost frantically.

 

"Come here," John murmured, rolling on top of Sherlock and pinning him to the mattress. "I love it when you beg for me. I love the sounds you make," he said, his voice low and rumbling, mirroring what Sherlock's usually sounded like. He rubbed their hips together, his eyes fluttering as their cocks brushed together. "I'm going to drive you crazy," he promised in a whisper, nipping at Sherlock's earlobe before slowly making his way down, brushing his lips and teeth over his mate's milky skin, sucking bruises whenever he thought to. 

 

Sherlock let out a breath, looking up at John with a distant, heat smouldered gaze. He moaned, whimpering as John sucked at his skin. He writhed on the bed, thrusting up a little to try and grind against his mate. "Christ...John..." he breathed.

 

"Only I can do this to you," John said possessively, letting his Alpha nature come out a little more as he marked Sherlock with a bite on his hip. "You are  _mine_  and no one else's." He ran his hands up Sherlock's sides and chest, playing with his nipples and then dragging his fingernails back down. 

 

Sherlock nodded breathlessly, yipping a little at the bite on his hip. He thrust up, trying to rut up against John desperately. He didn't  _need_  John...yet, he just wanted him. And John knew that...played with it. "John... _fuck..._  please...Christ..." he panted.

 

"Such a naughty boy," John murmured. "Trying to take what you want without permission." He tutted, nibbling down the inside of Sherlock's thigh and up the other one. "Oh, but look at how you beg for it," he murmured lustfully.

 

Sherlock moaned, nodding again, hoping that by agreeing with John he might be rewarded with something,  _anything._  "Yes...John, naughty...please..." he begged, rolling his hips forward a bit. "Punish me then _Captain_..."

 

John chuckled, leaning back, away, and trailing just the tip of his finger up the underside of Sherlock's erection. "Punishment, hmm... That's such an... objective word, don't you think?" He was glad to have the attention off of himself, to have Sherlock only focusing on what he wanted, what he needed. Sherlock was always first, and John wanted to remind him of that.

 

Sherlock nodded quickly, rutting up against John's hand, trying for more friction. "John...please, anything...fuck all John, you know I don't like begging!" he said, eyes wide and locked onto his mate.

 

"I know," John said, grinning like a cat with a mouse trapped between its paws. "I also know that you like acting helpless when you're really not," he whispered, leaning down to trail his lips up the centre of Sherlock's stomach, having that be their only point of contact. "You could take what you wanted. Why don't you?"

 

Sherlock blinked once, his neck still aching. He didn't take anything...not like this, not during a heat. Because...well because he couldn't. Especially with the aching reminder on his neck, he listened to John. He  _wanted_  to listen to John. Listen to him, and then bask in that amazing feeling of his praise. Almost nothing felt as good as John's praise during a heat...except his knot maybe.

 

John hummed, seeing the flicker of submission in the depths of Sherlock's eyes. "There it is," he breathed, attaching their lips and sinking two fingers into Sherlock at the same time. "Such a good boy," he praised, lightly brushing Sherlock's prostate with every brush of his fingers. "Oh, fuck, and you're so wet already."

 

Sherlock moaned against John's mouth, wriggling on John's fingers. He loved the feeling of John praising him, and he felt it wash over him. He hummed, nodding slightly. "Mm...love you John...Christ, so much.." he breathed, panting.

 

"I love you, too," John replied, able to feel and smell the change in Sherlock that shifted him from wanting to needing. "Oh, hello," John growled, biting at Sherlock’s lips and then down his neck. "Someone's early," he said cheekily, taking his fingers away and spreading Sherlock's legs wider. "God, you're so good, Sherlock. So good," he praised again his voice lowered once more.

 

Sherlock arched his back a little, nodding as he shifted a bit more on the bed, parting his thighs more for John. "Mm...mhm...mmgood...I'll be...good." he moaned, whining when John didn't replace his fingers. "God...please,  _please..."_ he begged.

 

"Not like I've ever been able to deny you anything," John said quietly, nudging his cock past the first ring of muscles and then snapping in the rest of the way. He growled a little nipping and nibbling and kissing over the scar on Sherlock's shoulder as he thrust into him, making each one long, slow, and forceful, hitting Sherlock's prostate dead on with every thrust. 

 

Sherlock hardly had time to make a noise before his gasp cut him off, eyes rolling back as he bit his lip. He moaned, moving slightly in rhythm with John. He was already so close. "Jo...ohn!" the name came out in two syllables, a gasp cutting between them. He couldn't even wait for permission, and without warning his body clenched around John and he came.

 

John moaned, nipping at Sherlock's neck as he sped up his thrusts, rocking Sherlock through his orgasm. "Let's see if we can't get you to do that again. You're so beautiful, Sherlock," he purred, sucking a small bruise just above his mate's collarbone.

 

It wasn't enough, Sherlock still had that horrible empty sensation that almost ached just below his belly button. He whined, squirming a little as John continued his movements. He felt even more sensitive now though, and moaned with each one, his fingers balled up into the bedding as he tugged. "John....I...please..." he begged.

 

John nuzzled into Sherlock's neck, moaning low in his throat at the desperation that he found there. "Jesus, Sherlock," he groaned, thrusting harder, faster, into his mate, pushing him up the bed with the force of his thrusts. He wrapped his fingers around Sherlock's erection, tugging slow and long to counter balance his quick thrusts. "One more," he urged, feeling his knot starting to swell.

 

Sherlock whined and moaned, his eyes clamped shut as his body trembled. "Mm...mm'can't...I ca-...I ca-....Christ!" he gasped as he seized up again, coming once more as he felt John's knot swell. As soon as John was in place Sherlock let out a huff of air, going limp on the bed, panting and shaking all over.

 

John let out a long moan as he finally buried his knot and came hard inside of Sherlock. He petted his curls gently, murmuring soft praise to him, kissing up his throat, along his jaw. He rolled over again, letting Sherlock lie on top of him. He ran his hands gently down Sherlock's back, still murmuring softly to him. 

 

Sherlock felt almost weightless, shivering when his back became exposed to the open air. It took him a little while to come down and he could hear John murmuring to him gently. He hummed in response to tell John he was listening, but couldn't manage much more than that. He was gently touching John's chest, tracing one scar with his left index finger, memorizing it without opening his eyes. He didn't think he could open them just yet.

 

John shivered a little under Sherlock's touch, humming quietly and kissing his forehead. "God, I love you," he whispered. "I love you so much, Sherlock." He knew he could say it a thousand times and it wouldn't be enough, but he hoped that Sherlock understood exactly how much he meant, exactly how much John would go through to keep him safe and to give him what he needed. 

 

Sherlock hummed, tilting his head down to kiss John's chest gently. "Mmlove...too...you," he murmured drowsily. He swallowed, nuzzling against John's chest, his thin, hair tickling Sherlock's cheek. He relaxed atop him, shifting a bit so he was settled on John's knot better. He sighed, feeling himself starting to drift off already.

 

John smiled happily, petting through Sherlock's hair as he fell asleep. "There's a good lad," he murmured softly, relaxing underneath his mate as exhaustion overtook him as well. He didn't want to, but he quickly fell asleep, Sherlock's scent heavy around him.

 

Sherlock slept for a couple hours this time, having rolled over and curled next to John at some point after they were freed from the knotting. When he woke up it was dark outside their window. He shifted a little on the bed, nuzzling against John's side with a sigh. He didn't know if John was awake, so he didn't want to move just yet to wake him. 

 

John rolled over, wrapping his arm around Sherlock and pulling him closer. "Hello," he murmured, having woken up just a short time ago. "How're you feeling?" he asked quietly, kissing Sherlock's forehead and the tip of his nose and then his lips.

 

Sherlock hummed, smiling against John's mouth. "Mmgood...surprisingly well. Considering what you just did to me You?" he asked softly, looking up at John. "Feel up to a shower? You haven't washed my hair in ages," he said.

 

"I hurt like hell," John admitted honestly, ducking his hell a little sheepishly. He smiled at the mention of a shower, though, nodding as well. "God, yes. That sounds like a wonderful idea," he agreed, kissing Sherlock one more time before slowly sitting up with a small groan.

 

Sherlock sat up as soon as John did, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe a bath would be better," he murmured quietly. "So you don't have to stand as long."

 John smiled appreciatively over his shoulder. "A bath sounds nice," he agreed, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to Sherlock, leading him into the bathroom. He turned on the water to let it warm and then set the plug in place so that the tub could fill. When it was nearing half full, he stepped in and sunk down, holding his hand out to give Sherlock something to hold on to when he stepped in.

 

Sherlock finally got to see John, all of John, in the light since he got back. It was still him, and he was still beautiful to Sherlock. He took his hand and sank into the water with a sigh, reaching up with one foot to turn off the water. He leaned back against John, reaching over for a cup to wet his hair with. "When you're ready," he said with a smirk.

 

John laughed. "Look at you, all demanding," he said, wetting Sherlock's hair and kissing his shoulder. "I don't mind. It's attractive," he said with a grin, reaching for the shampoo. He slowly squirted some into his hand and then started scrubbed it into Sherlock's hair, taking his time to massage his scalp and feel the curls running through his fingers. "Your hair is getting long."

 

"Yeah well...Hamish got it from somewhere," he murmured, leaning into John's hands with a soft moan. "Haven't cut it in a while," he murmured. "Same with Kat's, it's got so long." he said, sighing softly.

 

John hummed, continuing his gentle ministrations. "Yes, but Katherine is a girl, and it looks cute on her. You're starting to look shaggy," he teased, taking his hands away and poking Sherlock gently to signal him to rinse.

 

"I will not be confined by your constrictive gender ideals John. I think it's very _cute_ ," he said before sliding under the water and rinsing his hair. He came back up, facing John and kissing him gently.

 

John smiled at the kiss, leaning into it, his hand coming up to cup the back of his neck. "I'll never get tired of doing that," he said quietly, leaning up to kiss him again.

 

Sherlock hummed against John's lips, smiling a little. "Wouldn't expect you to, I am in fact, an amazing kisser," he murmured, nipping at John's bottom lip a small bit. He rolled back over in the tub, lifting up some soap and a washcloth to start washing himself gently, leaning forward which exposed his tattoo.

 

"You're cocky and arrogant," John said, chuckling as he traced the outline of Sherlock's tattoo and brand with the tips of his fingers before he leaned forward to kiss it gently. "We're both marked from war, aren't we?" he asked quietly, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist and holding onto him tightly. "Wish we had some semblance of a normal life."

 

Sherlock let out a breath, leaning back against his John. "Normal is boring." he said, "It was never going to be normal, because I am me, and you are you." He turned his head slightly so he could see John out of the corner of his eye. "Still...I think some quiet is well overdue," he murmured quietly.

 

"God, yeah, you think?" John teased, kissing the corner of Sherlock's mouth. "I miss talking to you," he said quietly, running his fingers lightly over Sherlock's chest. "I mean, I love the kids, obviously, but I miss just having you around. I miss waking up with you and just lying in bed until we felt like getting up." He sighed lightly, nuzzling against their mark on the back of Sherlock's neck.

 

Sherlock hummed a little, "I know...I miss you too. But we'll have that back again. Hate saying it, but soon enough they'll be old enough to take care of themselves in the mornings," he said quietly. It was hard to think about how small Katherine had been before and now...nearly five years old. He sighed, then opened his eyes. "God..." he said, sitting up and climbing out of the tub quickly. He pulled on a robe and padded over towards the medicine cabinet, rifling through it. "Damn it, where are they?" he muttered.

 

John started, almost asking what Sherlock was looking for when it dawned on him. "Oh, shit, yeah. Christ, has it been twenty-four hours since the first one?" he asked, unable to remember. Time always seemed to slip when Sherlock went through his heats.

 

Sherlock shook his head. "No it hasn't, first one was a bit after noon, it's only just barely seven in the morning now but...twenty-four hours is the max cut-off, it's effectiveness drops even before that,” he muttered, still digging through the cabinet before slamming it shut. Where had he put them, where?! He thought for a moment, sitting on the toilet lid as he tried to remember. 

 

"Just calm down, Sherlock, we'll find them," John said, slowly pushing himself out of the tub and putting his bathrobe on. "When was the last time you used -- oh, hell, they're not still at the cabin, are they?" he asked, his eyes a little wide as he glanced down at Sherlock.

 

Sherlock blanched, and looked up at John. Christ, why hadn't he remembered that? The inducers and the after heat pills were both still there. "I...they are. I...I forgot they were there. I thought we packed everything." Though at the time, after what the inducers did to him...no wonder he forgot something so small as that.

 

John let out a long breath, walking over to run his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "It's alright, it's fine. Really, it is. We'll be alright. There isn't a guarantee that you'll get pregnant, and even if you do, well... then I guess you do. I wouldn't mind having another," he said quietly, kissing Sherlock's forehead. "One that we'd actually both be here to raise, right?" he offered with a small smile.

 

Sherlock swallowed a little, "I...Hamish is so small though, he'd barely be more than a year old by the time the other one came along, not even out of nappies yet!" he said, worried about what this meant. What if he did have another? He was torn on that, half wanting one. John could be there for it. "Something always happens though. I had to leave the first time, you left last time..." he said softly, looking down.

 

John cupped Sherlock's cheek, kneeling down in front of him, steadying himself on Sherlock's knee. "Sherlock, please, listen to me," he said softly, smiling up at his mate. "It is not horrible that Hamish would be thirteen or fourteen months old. There are plenty of families that have four pups within four years, and then they're done. It's ridiculous." He gave another soft smile, cupping Sherlock's face between both of his palms. "And nothing is going to happen this time, right? I can hardly do anything, anyway, and you're stuck taking care of us all. We'll be okay."

 

Letting out a breath Sherlock looked up and met John's gaze, nodding once. "Well we're not having four," he mumbled quietly, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He sighed, "Besides...no guarantee that it will even take so...no point planning for something that hasn't happened yet. Though we would have to get a bigger place if that were to happen. Three pups and us in a two bedroom flat?" he said, shaking his head a bit.

 

John laughed, leaning up to kiss Sherlock gently before he pushed to his feet and held out his hand for Sherlock. "We're going to need a bigger place, anyway. Hamish and Kat won't share a room once they're both preteen," he said with a smile. "Harry and I couldn't stand to hardly be near each other at that time."

 

Sighing once more, Sherlock stood up as well, nodding once. "God no, I can't imagine her wanting to share with him anyway, she's never had to before," he murmured quietly. He had the spare thought that if they did have another pup, and it was a girl, she and Kat would have to share. He wondered what Katherine would think about that. 

 

John hummed, wrapping his arms around Sherlock for a moment and nuzzling into his neck. He backed off after a while, taking Sherlock's hand and leading him back to the bedroom. He quickly set about stripping the bed, tossing the sheets in a pile to go in the wash later before he grabbed another bed sheet set and put it on. "Let's go back to bed," he said quietly, crawling under the duvet and holding his hand out to Sherlock.

 

Sherlock rubbed his arm, pacing a small bit as John changed the bed. He reached down and touched his stomach lightly, quickly moving his hand and looking up when John spoke. He looked over at John then nodded, pulling off the robe and climbing into the bed, curling up. "It's not too late you know," he said softly. "I could...run to a store and get some, if you wanted," he mumbled.

 

John combed his fingers through Sherlock's hair, looking down at him with interest and a little curiosity. "I don't really think that that's my decision," he said quietly, kissing Sherlock's forehead and twining their legs together. "I'm going to support you no matter what you decide, love, I promise," he murmured.

 

"You're talking to an Omega who is still technically in a heat so...not really a choice. Right now I... of course I want it. I want them too, Katherine and Hamish," he said, shaking his head a little and wrapping his arms around John. "What will I tell Katherine about the mark on my neck? She's going to ask; she's always so concerned. Observant."

 

John let out a small sigh, nuzzling into Sherlock's hair before tucking his head under his chin. "We can show her your bond marks, and tell her it's a bit like them," he suggested quietly. "I hate lying to her, but until she's at least eight, I'd rather not get into the whole secondary gender dynamics with her."

 

"Mmm...I think she could handle it, but definitely not too early. I'll leave those talks to you maybe? Or should we both do them? I don't really know how to go about doing those talks really. I never had one, I simply found a book," he said with a shrug. 

 

"So did I," John admitted, laughing. "I wanted to be a doctor, so I started reading medical things and stumbled upon it," he said, wrapping his arms tightly around Sherlock, rubbing his hands along his back. "But it's fine. I can talk to her," he said softly, pressing a couple kisses to Sherlock's cheek.

 

"Maybe...well I should be there for that talk though, shouldn't I? Or would I make it worse?" he asked, never having thought about how they would discuss this with Katherine. She knew that the marks on his neck were called bondmarks but she never really bothered asking what they were for. He sighed a little, relaxing a bit more against John.

 

John yawned, exhausted and worn and sore, snuggling closer to his mate. "We can talk about that later," he decided, his eyes slipping shut. "Still have a while," he murmured quietly, already starting to drift off to sleep. "Wake me if you have another cycle," he breathed, finally slipping under with his last word.

 

Sherlock nodded silently, watching John fall back asleep. He himself didn't sleep really, though he was tired. He stood up and walked over to Hamish's bassinet, lifting up one of his sleepers and inhaling the scent of it, letting the breath out slowly. God he missed him, and Katherine. Not having eaten much the day before Sherlock wandered down the hallway towards the kitchen and made something small to eat. He then proceeded to tidy the flat and arrange everything nicely, managing to get a fairly good amount done quickly. 

 

It was nearly nine in the morning when he was unloading the stuffed animals and toys from Katherine's old crib and pulling it apart into large pieces, carrying it downstairs and returning to her room to rearrange it as well to surprise her. He didn't know where the urge came from to make everything just so, but he didn't pay much attention to it. He had a faint recollection of doing that during his first couple heats after Katherine was born; almost like nesting or something, he didn't even notice he was doing it.

 

It was nearly eleven when John woke up to an empty bed. "Sherlock?" he called, instantly awake at the absence of his mate and his scent. He reached over to his nightstand, grabbing for his knife before he swung over the side of the bed and started making his way through the flat. "Sherlock?" he whispered, glancing into the living room before taking off up the stairs. "Please, please be up here," he murmured to himself, climbing slowly and quietly, the adrenaline running through him helping him to ignore the slight pain in his legs. When he reached the top of the stairs, he took a deep breath, bracing himself before pushing open the door, knife held tightly in his hand.

 

The crib was still disassembled downstairs, but Katherine's room was completely rearranged. Sherlock was curled up on Katherine's bed, having finally falling asleep, Katherine's bear tucked near his face. He hummed when he heard someone in the room, shifting slightly. He pulled his eyes open, blinking a few times to see John. He smiled, though it faltered when he saw the knife in his hand. "Wh-what's wrong?" he asked, sitting up quickly, having to stretch a little bit. "John?"

 

John sagged with relief, leaning against the door frame and dropping his head back against it. "Christ, Sherlock, don't do that to me," he said quietly, walking into the room and setting the knife down before crawling onto the bed beside his mate. "You scared the living hell out of me." He wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist, snuggling in behind him and nuzzling between his shoulder blades.

 

Sherlock blinked a couple times, looking around Katherine's room a little before curling up, leaning back into John. "I...I wanted to get Hamish's crib, but there wasn't room to set it in the living room so I cleaned it, then I got the crib down and I...well I couldn't leave Katty's room a mess either, thought I would surprise her.” He yawned, hugging Katherine's bear gently, missing her. He'd cleaned the whole flat save for the bathroom, but he could get that next. "We just have to put it together. Why did you grab a knife?"

 

"Because you were gone, and your scent was gone, and I'm only two months back from the war, Sherlock," John muttered, his breath hot on Sherlock's skin as he mouthed at their bond mark, and then the one on the side of his neck. "I know that you're nesting, and I know that you miss them, but... a little warning, maybe, would have been nice."

 

Sherlock sighed, "But..." this bed smelled of Katherine. He nodded once and sat up. "We should set up Hamish's crib first. I only didn't because you were sleeping."

 

John let out a soft groan, pushing himself up and scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Right, yeah. 'Kay." He slowly stood up, grabbing his knife and then a couple pieces of the crib before starting down the stairs. "Come on, then. Let's get this put together so that I can snuggle with you til the kids get home."

 

Sherlock had forgotten the rails of the crib, having fallen asleep before grabbing them, and followed John as he took them downstairs. He grabbed the ends of the crib and carried them down to their room, starting to move the wardrobe a small bit to make room for it. "I'll grab the other pieces from the living room, you get started with that."

 

John ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it a little before he got started, fitting the pieces together the way he remembered them going. It was nearly like muscle memory, though not quite. He smiled when Sherlock came back in with the other pieces, taking them from him and putting them together with the rest. By the time he was done, he was ready to sleep again, wanting to just be curled up tight with his Omega. "Bed, now," John commanded, grabbing Sherlock's hand and pulling him to the bed.

 

Sherlock didn't argue, still worn out from the heat. He fell into the bed wearing his lounge clothes that he'd pulled on lazily when he'd gotten up. Sherlock faced away from John and scooted back so that John could spoon up behind him, grabbing John's hand for him and placing it over his heart before pulling up the covers. He sighed contentedly, "What time is you mother bringing them?" he asked.

 

"It'll be later," John murmured quietly. "She wants us to spend some time together, which is nice of her, even though you may really want them back right now," he said, holding Sherlock tightly against him and nuzzling against the nape of his neck. "Get some rest now, love," he mumbled, his own eyes drooping. He was just on the edge of sleep when his phone started ringing. He ignored it, burrowing closer to Sherlock, until it stopped and then immediately started again. Swearing softly, John rolled over, snatching up his phone and pressing it to his ear. "Harry? What?" He sat up straighter, jumping out of bed as if he had been bitten. "What?! When, where is she? The kids, are they okay?" He ran over to the chest of drawers, immediately pulling out a change of clothes and changing into them.

 

Sherlock heard John's tone and sat bolt upright, John talking about the kids and how he'd missed them, he was right. He was nesting earlier that day, of course he missed them. John's words now on the phone though set his senses alight and he was already in a panic, following suit and pulling on clothes. "John? John what's wrong? Where are they? Where is Hamish and Katherine? Your mother? John!" he said, impatient, panicked.

 

John hung up the phone after he had all of the answers he needed from Harry, and he immediately went over to his bedside table, pulling out his gun and sliding the clip into place. "Katherine and Hamish are fine," John replied finally. "They're safe, they're with Harry at the hospital." John stopped moving for a moment, tipping his head back and taking a deep breath, his eyes pinched tightly shut. "Mum's in surgery. Harry won't tell me how bad, just that she was shot." He shook his head, refusing to get emotional now. He was Alpha, and he had a mate and two pups to take care of, and a mother to get to. "We need to go."

 

Sherlock's heart seized up and he nodded quickly, taking John's hand tightly and pulling towards the door. He grabbed an extra bag for Hamish that he always kept on hand for needing to leave in a hurry, formula, bottles, and nappies and such. They hurried down the stairs and hailed a cab. As soon as they were inside he wrapped his arms around John. "I-it's going to be fine...they're fine, and she...she's going to be fine John. She has to be." he said quickly, scenting John. He was trying to calm John, but also himself. All he could think about was Katherine and Hamish, had they been there? Were they hurt at all? What about their grandmother?

 

John to the cabbie to go to Bart's, and then he paid attention to Sherlock, trying to calm him down. "She'll be fine, love, I'm sure," he said calmly, his doctor voice firmly in place. "And Harry said that the pups are fine, too. Don't you worry about them. Mum wouldn't have let anything happen to them, you know that." He nuzzled against Sherlock's neck, kissing under his jaw. "Just take deep breaths, it'll be okay."

 

Sherlock inhaled shakily, letting out a small puff, "I-I'm trying to calm you, you idiot." he said, trying to go for teasing but he still sounded shaken. He tapped his foot in the cab as they were driving, "Can't this idiot drive any faster?" he muttered under his breath, his whole body tense. He wanted his pups, he wanted  _his_  children. He had to know they were safe, then he could focus on other things. But until he saw them, he couldn't talk himself down.

 

John held Sherlock tighter, understanding his worry, his nerves, his need to see their pups. John wanted them too, wanted to make sure that they were safe and whole, but he already knew that they were. He wasn't driven my Omega hormones, he was driven by Alpha ones, and those told him to protect his family. He just needed to get them all together, first. 

 

As soon as they pulled up at the hospital, John tossed a tenner at the cabbie and got out, taking Sherlock's hand and leading him into the waiting room. He caught sight of Harry immediately, both pups sitting in her lap, and he trotted over to her, letting go of Sherlock so that the Omega could get to their pups first, relieving Harry to come talk to John.

 

Sherlock saw the glances from other people in the hospital as they rushed in, able to smell that he was at the tail-end of his heat. As soon as he saw Harry and the children he quickened his pace. Harry saw them and nudged Katherine towards him. "Daddy! Papa!" She cried, running over to them. Sherlock intercepted her and picked her up, holding her as she practically clung onto him like a koala. He shifted her so she was on one hip and took Hamish, checking him over as the infant greeted him, unfazed by where they were.

           

Katherine's face was buried in Sherlock's neck, she obviously knew something was wrong, not knowing that what she was looking for was his scent. Pups could smell that, though they weren't consciously aware of it most of the time. "Shh...shh, I've got you." he said, holding them both tightly as he sat down, shaking a little himself, from relief. 

 

Harry stayed away from Sherlock as soon as he went for the pups, knowing how stupid it would be to get between an Omega and their children. She walked up to John instead, smelling the heavy wall of Alpha pheromones around him and standing a few feet back in order to avoid it. "As far as I know, she's still in surgery," she explained quietly, folding her arms. "I don't know exactly what happened, but from what I can get from Katherine, they were at Mum's, and they were all sitting in the living room, playing a game or something, I imagine, when the door busted down and this mass of a man came in. He lifted a gun, and Mum, of course, stood up and got in the way, and then she ran at the man, chasing him away from the children."

 

John let out a long breath, scrubbing both of his hands down his face and nodding slowly. "Yeah, alright, I'll talk to Mum when she gets out. I'd rather not upset Kat more, unless she offers up anything to me," he said softly, noticing his sister's stance and immediately trying to put a check on his pheromones.

 

"John, there's one more thing," Harry said, catching John's arm before he could walk back to his family. "The last thing she told me before they got Mum in the ambulance was that the man had her old bear. How the hell is that possible?"

 

John's stomach dropped, but he shook his head. "I don't know. It shouldn't be," he said softly, walking over to Sherlock and sitting down beside him. 

 

Sherlock clung tightly onto his two children, and realized that Katherine was shaking a bit. "Katty? Baby, what is it?" he didn't get a reply. Harry looked over at them and stepped a bit closer. 

 

"She hasn't said anything since she told me about...about it. Not a word until she said both of your names." she said softly.

 

Katherine sniffled once, arms almost startlingly tight around his neck. He rubbed her back gently and felt her head shift. Katherine looked over and pried her arms off of Sherlock only to scoot over onto John's lap, wrapping all four of her limbs around his neck and waist, hiding her face in his neck. Sherlock furrowed his brows a little, god, had Katherine seen it all? He held onto Hamish with both hands, looking concernedly at John.

 

John wrapped his arms around Katherine, holding her tightly and rocking her gently, nuzzling into her hair. "Shh, baby, shh," he soothed. He wasn't together with his whole family yet, and he was still on edge about that, but his main priority at the moment was Katherine. "You're alright," he promised, knowing that he could relate with whatever his daughter had seen. "You know that you can tell me anything, right? And you know that Papa won't be mad or upset in any way, even if you choose not to tell me," he murmured, petting through her hair and he whispered gently to her.

 

Sherlock was rocking Hamish gently, the infant gumming the hem of his coat, he didn't mind. He was looking at Katherine, and how she'd moved away from him. It made sense. Sherlock had missed out on those necessary two years. He'd been there for her first one, which probably accounted for her allowing him back so easily, but for her main emotional comfort, she looked to John, because he was the one there when she started to develop emotionally. 

 

Katherine whimpered a little, her small fingers balling up in the back of John's shirt. She was still shaking, and nodded, not saying anything in response to what was being whispered to her. 

 

"That's right," John murmured, rubbing his hand over Kat's back and continuing to soothe her. He stood up at one point, walking around and bouncing her a little, holding her close, because he knew that the motion comforted her. "You're my big, brave girl, aren't you?" he breathed, kissing her cheek. "Such a strong little girl. And you know that Gran's going to be fine. Papa wouldn't be this calm if she wasn't, would he? Papa's a doctor, and doctor's need to help people. He'd be helping her if she needed it, right?" he asked her quietly, trying to engage her, even just a little.

 

Katherine sniffled a couple more times, nodding a little to her Papa's questions. "Mm." was the only noise she made that was any kind of confirmation to what she'd heard. John nodded, nuzzling against Kat again.

 

"That's my brave girl," he murmured quietly.

 

Sherlock watched John as he stood with Katherine, turning his attention down to Hamish when he started fussing. Sherlock went about changing him quickly on the bench, pulling out a changing pad and a fresh nappy. He then reached into the bag and pulled out a pre-made formula bottle, pulling the seal off it and shaking it up. "It's not warm, but we're roughing it for now, yes?" he murmured, feeding the hungry pup. Hamish grabbed onto the bottle greedily with both hands holding it practically by himself; it was smaller than the bottles at home so he could manage it.

 

"Harry Watson?" John turned at the voice of a stranger and followed it to a doctor walking towards them. Harry stood and was by his side in a moment, and they were soon both walking over to the doctor, John pausing a moment to wait for Sherlock.

 

"Can we see her, yet?" John asked when they had caught up, still rubbing Kat's back gently. The doctor nodded. "She just came out of surgery, so she's unconscious, but yes, you can come in and spend a few minutes with her. We recommend only one person being there when she wakes up, however," he said, starting to lead them through the hospital.

 

Sherlock looked up when a doctor came to get them, quickly shoving the changing pad into the bag and lifting it onto his shoulder, Hamish still feeding himself contentedly. He followed them down the hall, seeing Katherine's red rimmed eyes over John's shoulder, staring at the wall as they walked down the hall. His poor girl...it was one thing for an adult to witness such things, scarring if in excess which was the case for John. But there is a difference between the two. What can scar an adult...can inflict damage onto a child. 

 

They were finally lead to a room and they saw Mindy there laying unconscious, various wires and tubes hooked up to her. Sherlock felt a lump form in his throat and he held onto Hamish tighter. "Why would someone do this?" he said softly. God, was it him? Were they after the kids? Though if they had been, wouldn't they have also...Sherlock shook his head, not wanting to think about that.

 

John's jaw tightened at the sight of his mother lying in the hospital bed, as pale and helpless as he had ever seen her. He had most of his emotions on shutdown at the moment, though, or he would have been in tears, which Harry was obviously very near. He turned so that Katherine could see her Gran, could see that she was breathing. "See? Just like Papa when he was in the hospital," he said softly.

 

He had a fairly good idea of who would do this and why, why they would go after the pups and why they would strike while they were with his mum. But he wouldn't say anything. Not until he and Sherlock were alone.

 

Katherine lifted her head and looked over at her gran. She whimpered a little and buried her face again, her legs tightening around John's waist.

 

Sherlock looked over at John, then pulled out his phone, messaging his brother. 

 

_I know you're busy with Elizabeth and running the country and all, but John's mother has been shot. The children were there. They're fine, she's out of surgery. Find them, him, whoever did it. CCTV from the time of it, anything. SH_

 

John walked over to Harry, who had sat down hard in the chair next to the bed. He squeezed her shoulder, offering her a kind smile and wiping away her tears. "Don't let her see those," he teased, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Let me know when she wakes up," he said softly before he turned and took Sherlock's hand. "We should go home," he said quietly.

 

Sherlock dropped the empty bottle in the trash and started burping Hamish, bouncing gently when he was done just so he didn't have to stand still. He looked down at his hand when John took it, then looked up at John. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly. Didn't John want to be here for his mother? She was stable, which was good, and her colour wasn't bad either. 

 

John nodded, keeping his hold tight on Kat. "We need to get the kids home. And the doctor said it should just be one person here when Mum wakes up, and I agree." He petted his hand through Kat's curls, kissing her temple. "Let's go home. Harry'll call when something happens."

 

Sherlock walked over to the bed and put his hand over Mindy's, giving it a small squeeze before he nodded. He turned and stepped out of the room, looking back at John as he followed with Katherine, who sniffled again. They started down the hall, Hamish having fallen asleep at one point. They didn't have a car seat for him, it was at Mindy's house, but he didn't want to put him down anyway. He glanced over at John, something was off, other than the obvious. "You alright?" he asked softly.

 

John looked over at Sherlock as they stepped out onto the pavement. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, his voice a little flat, but it wasn't going to explain now. How could he, when he had a traumatised daughter in his arms? He raised a hand for a cab, thankful that one was able to pull up in quick order. He let Sherlock get in first, and then he followed behind, sliding into the seat and telling the cabbie to take them home. "You're okay, baby," he murmured to Kat, kissing her cheek and rocking her a little.

 

Sherlock kept eyeing John and Katherine all the way home, their daughter still quiet. At one point he was certain the four-year-old had fallen asleep, for which he was grateful. He let out a breath, "I've contacted Mycroft. Told him about what happened, at least what I know of it. I know he's busy with Lestrade, who's on leave but...this is important," he said softly. "I've asked for any CCTV footage from around your mother's home, try and find whoever did this. Get a face put on him..." he said softly, kissing Hamish's head as the infant slept held against his chest.

 

"He's going to be Afghani," John said quietly, pulling Katherine's limp arms from around him and moving her so that he was cradling her in his arms. "Or..." John sighed, picturing the bear of Katherine's that he had held while he had been in the desert. "Or it's the man that was torturing me. I need to ask Mum when she wakes up," he said softly, annoyed and angry that they had gone after his children. 

 

Sherlock turned to look at John more fully, "You...you mean you think this is to do with what happened over there?" he asked, "That man...he took your tags," he said, "But why would he go to your mother's? How would anyone even know about that place? They would have gone to Baker Street wouldn't they?" he asked, remembering the story John had told him, the American. “I thought everyone there was killed when they pulled you out?”

 

John shook his head, looking down at Katherine and running the back of his finger over her cheek. He wouldn't come to me directly, that's not his style. He would go after pressure points, make me weak, make me vulnerable, and then he would make me go to him, and he would take me apart." He looked up at Sherlock, his eyes a little unfocused as he remembered that time being tortured.

 

The infant in Sherlock's arms stirred a little and Sherlock ran a hand up and down his back to soothe him gently. "Well he'll not get anymore pressure points John, I'm calling Mycroft when we're back. He'll put someone on the flat, and at Harry's as well. Your mother will be taken care of and when she's released she can stay with us or with Harry and Clara..." he let out a breath. "I still don't understand...how he knew that they would be there I... he was after them?" he asked quietly, his voice cracking a little at the thought of someone wanting to hurt his children. No doubt though the plan was to abduct them, the gun was his force, Mindy fought, and the noise scared him off, knowing that it was an urban area and people would be drawn to it. He shook his head, thoughts starting to reel out of control and he couldn't let that happen yet.

 

"He'd probably been watching us for a while," John said bitterly, ashamed that he hadn't been able to notice because he had been disabled. "I'm going to kill all of them, I swear. Every single one," he snarled.

 

Katherine stirred slightly when John's tone shifted, a small noise coming from her. Sherlock felt his chest tighten, looking down at his daughter. She'd seen him, she knows what the man looks like. He blinked, seeing on the edge of the long sweater she wore, below her coat...there was a little bit of blood.

She'd been right there, it wasn't spatter, she'd been next to Mindy. He reached over, rubbing her hand gently and looking under her nails, red. She'd tried to help. Maybe covered the wound even, and he already knew Katherine knew how to call 999. And now she'd seen what John has, far too young though. "I'll help."

 

"No," John said firmly, shaking his head and holding Katherine a little tighter, more comforting. "No, you are going to take care of our pups. This is my business; this is what I do. I am not going to have you getting hurt over this." The metal of his gun burned cold fire against the small of his back, and he couldn't wait to use it, couldn't wait to pull them all apart for what they did to him and his mother, and especially to his daughter. 

 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "John, I am  _not_ weak." he said. "I tracked down and killed all of Moriarty's network, and now someone's attacked- they went after  _our_  children." he said. "And you want me to do nothing. I can't just stand by like that..." he said, not pleased in the slightest.

 

"I'm not saying that you're weak, and I'm not asking you to just stand by," John said, nearly snarled. "I am telling you to guard our children, because they are the most important thing in the world. Their safety comes first. And I want to know that someone capable is looking after them while I'm hunting these arseholes," he said, his lip curling back in anger. He turned his head, clenching his jaw as he glared out of the window. Katherine stirred in his arms, and he shushed her gently, wishing to be home, wishing that there was something to take his anger out on.

 

Sherlock recoiled at the snarl, looking down at Hamish in his arms and going silent. He swallowed, tossing a bill to the driver and getting out of the cab when it finally stopped outside of the flat. Sherlock looked down the street both ways, seeing a black car parked across the street. He looked up, the CCTV cameras trained on their flat. He looked back at John as he got out. "They would have swept the flat already, and are watching it now," he said, letting himself in and starting up the stairs. 

 

John's hackles raised when he saw the black car parked across the street. He hated the thought of someone else being in his home, even if he was sure that Mycroft would have sent in Betas. He quickly walked into the flat and up the stairs, laying Kathering down on the sofa and covering her up with a blanket. He jogged upstairs, grabbing her teddy bear and tucking it in with her, then kissed her head and went back to the bedroom, ignoring Sherlock, who was sitting in his chair. He took out his small knife from inside the bedside table, flicking it around his fingers before he threw it hard at the wall and stared at it, his hands fisted and his shoulders shaking. 

 

Sherlock was watching Katherine when he heard the unmistakable sound of a knife being tossed into the wall. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before standing up and starting down the hall. "John?" he called softly to announce himself. He stepped into the room and laid Hamish down gently into his new crib before walking over and wrapping his arms around John. "Try and calm down...you can't focus when you're like this," he murmured quietly, tilting his neck slightly while scenting John's.

 

"My mother is in the hospital, and out pups were nearly kidnapped, and you're telling me to calm down?!" John exclaimed, taking a deep breath to keep from yelling, but all that did was make him inhale a lungful of Sherlock's scent. He let out a soft groan, dropping his forehead to Sherlock's shoulder and immediately broke down, sobbing against him and shaking with each slow drag of breath. 

 

Sherlock glanced over at Hamish when John started to raise his voice, holding tightly onto him when he started to cry instead of yell. He wrapped one hand around the back of John's neck, rubbing the base of his hair with his thumb. "It'll be okay; we'll take care of this. We'll take care of the pups; we'll take care of everything."

 

John cried until he was numb, until he couldn't really remember why he was crying anymore; he just knew that it was okay, and that it was good. He turned out of Sherlock's arms when he felt the bed dip down, and he looked over to see Katherine crawling up, staring wide-eyed at him. "Papa?" John smiled, wiping at his eyes and moving to lie down, motioning for Kat to come forward.

 

"Come on, sweetheart. It's alright."

 

Katherine sniffed, crawling forward between them and curling up against John's chest. Sherlock rubbed her side a little, settling next to her. "No one thre when I got up," she said quietly, "Thought Papa and Daddy left," she said, sniffling again as her thumb slipped into her mouth. 

 

"No, baby, never," John whispered, kissing her forehead and combing through her hair. "You had your bear with you, didn't you? Means that one of us is home, yeah?" he whispered, stroking her cheek lightly. "You're alright, Katty, I promise. Everything's going to be alright."

 

Katherine nodded once, letting out a small breath through her nose, still sucking on her thumb still. She closed her eyes, falling silent once more. It worried Sherlock, the only time he'd heard her speak was to call for them, and to say that she thought she'd been left alone. Katherine normally talked so much, especially after a night away. Now...it was like part of her was gone. 

 

"I understand, Katty," John murmured, knowing that seeing something so terrible could break the strongest adult. "You saved Gran, you know that?" he said, poking her nose. He had noticed the blood in her nails, the stain on her shirt. "And I'm very proud of you. You were so brave. And you know that Papa understands, because he's had to do that before, loads of times." He kissed her forehead, closing his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, baby. I'm so sorry."

 

Sherlock nodded once, still smoothing their daughter's curls down gently. He eventually started to doze lightly, as he had been before they got the call about John's mother. He tried to stay awake, but the heat had taken it out of him and he fell asleep.

 

John paused as soon as he saw that Sherlock was asleep. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself, before his kissing Katherine's forehead and disentangled himself from her, crawling out of bed slowly and quietly. He grabbed his gun and his shoulder holster, as well as two knives, before slipping from the room. He only left a short note in the kitchen, telling Sherlock that he would be back soon, and asking him to please stay home, and then he was gone, shoulder holster in place and the safety off on his gun. He didn't know if he was being watched by the man with the auburn hair, but he hoped so, because that was who he was volunteering to talk to as he walked out of the flat and onto the pavement, catching a cab, which he only took for a short distance before getting out to walk, making him harder to follow.

 

He walked along streets and down alleys that he knew contained rarely checked CCTV cameras, trying to draw attention to himself and still remain hidden from Mycroft's eyes. It was quite a lot more challenging than he had thought, but eventually, nearing an hour later, his phone started vibrating with a text. An address. He walked back to the main rode, immediately catching a cab and giving off the new location. 

 

He arrived at the abandoned, overgrown hotel forty minutes later, and he took half a moment to just stare at the building before he dove inside, drawing his longest knife as soon as daylight became filtered. He wasn't about to give away his gun; he wasn't that stupid. 

 

 

 

Sherlock woke up a few hours later to screaming, a thrashing Katherine in his arms. His eyes snapped open, thinking that someone was hurting her, but he saw she was just asleep, caught in the grips of a nightmare. "Katty, shhh....shhh, Katty girl. It's alright baby, open your eyes, you're just dreaming," he said, holding her as he gave her a few gentle shakes. Hamish woke up to her noises and started fussing himself. A midst all of this Sherlock noticed John's absence, though he knew instantly where he had gone. 

 

Katherine's eyes finally tore open and she instantly burst into tears, burying her face into Sherlock's chest and he sat up, pulling her onto his lap to rock her, soothing her gently. She quieted, and Hamish did as well, though he was still clearly upset at being woken. 

 

 

Sherlock soothed Katherine gently for several more minutes until she settled again. "You want me to get your bear? I'll just be in the living room for one minute okay? Can you watch Hamish?" he asked. She nodded a little, sniffling and sucking on her thumb again, something she'd stopped doing while he was 'dead' according to John. He kissed her forehead, heading into the living room and picking up her bear. He also popped into the kitchen to grab a lolly from the top of the fridge. He stepped back into his room, closing the doors to make her feel more secure. He unwrapped the sweet and offered it out, "There we go, for the brave girl yes?" he said. She took it, glancing over at John's side of the bed, Sherlock let out a breath. He plucked Hamish out of his crib and grabbed a pacifier for him, sitting down and facing Katherine, who was under the blankets and leaning against his pillow. "Your Papa's gone to go take care of the bad man. He's going to be back soon," he said, wishing he felt as certain as he hoped he sounded. 

 

 

The first two men were silent kills. John was able to creep up behind both of them, cover their mouths and snap their necks, and then slowly lower them to the ground before either even had time to turn around. They were Afghani, as he had suspected, and were planted as confidence boosters, because the next ones weren't so easy, and they got fairly messy.

 

John grimaced, wiping off his blade on the trouser leg of one of the men before he stood up, letting out a heavy sigh. He knew what was happening, why this building was chosen. They were wearing him out, and he could be in here for hours before he actually found them, if he ever did. The chances were much higher of them finding him first. And he didn't like those odds.

 

"Alright!" he called out tossing the knife aside so that it stuck deep into the wall. If he wasn't allowed to use it, then no one else was, either. "I'm done! I get it, okay? You're bigger than me, you can manipulate me. I understand. But I'm not doing this shit anymore. I'm not going to run your rat maze. You want me? Here I am. I came here where you told me. Fucking face me!"

 

 

Sherlock was sitting in the middle of his and John's bed, Katherine laying on his left now, on John's side, face buried into his pillow, curled up close to his side. Hamish was asleep again after being changed and fed, laying stomach down on Sherlock's chest. He had an arm around both of them, not willing to let either of them go. John said to keep them safe, and safe he would keep them. He trusted Mycroft's people enough not to let anyone get inside, and even then, he'd gathered a couple of knives of John's, and they were on the bedside table. He let out a breath, trying to calm himself, willing John to be alright. 

 

 

There was the shuffle of footsteps coming from John's left, and he turned to see the man walk out of a doorway, his hands clasped behind his back and shaking his head. "You don't appreciate my gift to you. You've been on bed rest for too long, John Watson. I thought that you would like this little exercise."

 

"I got bored," John replied easily, rolling his fingers into fists as he watched the man walk. He wanted to shoot him, and he would have, right then and there, if it wasn't for the five other men that walked through the doorway just then.

 

            The man laughed, his eyes sparking as he tossed back his head. "Oh, John, thank god it was you. I imagine you must be dying to know something about me -- who I am, what I want, why  _you._  The story is interesting, I promise, but for now..." he grinned, turning to the other men. "Bind his arms. Keep a gun on him. And give him a pat down."

 

            John snarled, forcing himself to stay calm as two men approached with a length of rope and another kept a gun trained on his head. He was fucked, because obviously he didn't need to be kept alive for anything. He was just being played with, now. "Do I get a name, at least?" he asked of the retreating figure of the auburn haired man.

 

            "You can call me Lucian," the man replied over his shoulder as he kept walking. "Not my real name, but it'll do." With that, he disappeared, and John was submitted to a very invasive pat down. 

 

 

A: If there was one thing that Sherlock found to be intolerable, it was waiting. He'd never liked it, and now here he lay, getting more and more impatient, and scared. Katherine would stir occasionally, a whimper rising out of her and Sherlock would rub her back gently to soothe her, often doing the same for Hamish who would start fussing when she did. He eventually pulled out his phone, sending a message to Mycroft demanding he find where John was.

 

_He seems to have been resourceful enough to evade me for the moment. Now tell me...what do I do with Thrush? Greg said it looked like Thrush in her mouth. MH_

 

_You're really asking me questions about pups right now?! SH_

 

_Sherlock, my people are catching up with him as fast as they can, it is out of my hands and he isn't using his phone so there is no way to get a track on him. I'm monitoring everything I can from here, now...Thrush. MH_

 

_Wait a bit to see if it clears up, if not take her to a doctor, they'll give you a gel. SH_

_I'm going to try calling him, if he or...or someone else picks up, then you find him. SH_

 

            With that he stopped messaging, then dialled John's number. It started to ring, and he was both hoping, and dreading that someone would pick up.

 

 

John had been led through the hotel, through rooms overgrown with blooming vines coming through the cracks, and through rooms that were simply falling apart, until he had ended up in a large suite at the back of the building, and now he was sitting at the end of a new bed, watching Lucian pace in front of him. "Something wrong?" John antagonised, narrowing his eyes on the man and wondering what was going through his head.

 

            Lucian looked over at him, quirking an eyebrow and immediately pacing over to him, his eyes encompassing his full predatory Alpha nature. "You have no idea, do you?" he whispered, stopping just in front of John and grabbing his chin, tilting his head up. John could fully appreciate the man's height at this angle. "No idea what you got yourself into, that first time you served in Afghanistan. No idea, how huge that last mission was that nearly ended your life. You really don't know anything. Just as clueless as I had hoped." He immediately lunged down, connecting their lips in a sloppy kiss that John fought to disconnect.

 

            Finally, Lucian backed off, letting John suck down a lungful of air. "What are you talking about?" John demanded, glaring up at Lucian, who simply chuckled, pressing closer to John, carding his fingers through John's hair.

 

            "You were put on that mission on purpose. It had to be you, because no one else would be stupid enough to stick with it if they lived. But they never told you." Lucian pouted, his eyes tracing John's lips and ignoring the phone that suddenly started ringing. "Poor John, the obedient soldier, the manipulative game piece, and they never told you what you were getting into."

 

            John narrowed his gaze. "You. You were in the house that we were sent to. And you killed my team, tried to kill me. And now this last trip..." Fire burned low in his gut, and the urge to kill the Alpha in front of him intensified. 

 

            "There he finally understands. But oh, what do I want with you? Why not kill you? Is that what you want to know?" Lucian grinned, leaning down and pulling John's head aside so that he could trail his lips down the side of his neck. "Because you are going to be my new chew toy," he purred, pressing his thigh between John's legs.

 

John gritted his teeth, his innate nature not wanting this kind of attention from another Alpha. Especially if the plans were for him to be bottoming. He was just not going to be going for it. Snarling, he braced his feet on the floor and rammed his shoulder into Lucian's stomach, pushing past him and spinning out of his reach, somehow managing to keep his balance without his arms to even him out as he ran over to the vanity across the room, snatching up his knife that had been placed there. He watched Lucian catch his breath, glaring at him, as he quickly started cutting through the rope binding his arms. 

 

            Lucian ran at him before he had got through his wrists. John braced himself, kicking out with both feet as soon as Lucian got close enough. The man reacted too fast, grabbing John's ankles and yanking, pulling him forward and off-balance, causing the knife to cut into his arm and his head to hit the edge of the vanity as he went crashing to the floor. 

 

            Lucian was on him in and instant, fisting his hand in John's hair and slamming his head into the floor before he hauled the arm doctor up and threw him over the edge of the bed. "You," Lucian panted, putting weight on his palm so that the side of John's face pressed into the mattress, "do not get to disobey me."

 

            John panted, his head spinning, and tried to fight back, to do anything, but Lucian weighted more than he did, and he was all toned muscle. His heart was hammering, because he knew what was coming, why they were alone, and he didn't want it, his body didn't want it, his mind didn't want it. 

 

            Lucian leaned forward farther, the obvious bulge in his trousers pressing hard against John's arse. "And you," he whispered into John's ear, his voice low and deadly, "are going to take me like the bitch I'm going to turn you into."

 

 

 

Sherlock huffed out a breath, hanging up when he got John's voice mail. He immediately tried to call again, "Come on, come on John..." he breathed. He had to hang up again though when Katherine woke up, shifting a little. "You haven't eaten anything since we've been home, a lolly isn't enough, what about me making some food, hmm?" he said gently. Katherine nodded a small bit and Sherlock let out a relieved breath, at least she would eat for him, that was a good thing. He stood up, still holding Hamish and held out his hand for her. 

 

            Together they walked down the hall and into the living room where Sherlock put Hamish into his swing before going into the kitchen to start a grilled cheese sandwich for Katherine. When Sherlock finished the sandwich he was fidgeting from worry, which gnawed at his stomach the whole time, to the point that he almost felt physically sick from it. He smiled gently at Katherine thought as he set down the sandwich, cut in half, in front of Katherine. He poured her a glass of Chocolate milk and sat across from her.

 

            "Come on, love. You need to eat," he said softly. Her face seemed different, it was still his Katherine, but there was something just missing from it, like a light had gone out. She looked at the sandwich, then back up at Sherlock. "W...want Papa," she said in a small voice.

 

            Sherlock felt his chest tighten at that, looking down when he heard his phone go off. 

 

_Caught up with the surveillance. We have an address, going there now. MH_

 

            Sherlock let out a breath, hoping it wouldn't be too late. He looked up at Katherine, "That was about your papa...he's going to come home soon Katty. But in the meantime, you have to eat sweetheart," he said softly.

 

 

John's hands were bound to the headboard with the rope that he had partially managed to cut through. Of course, Lucian hadn't been able to manage that on this own -- two of his thugs had been called in to help. But now he was face down on the mattress, alone with Lucian once again. 

 

            "You know, I think you probably could have gotten away if you hadn't been on bed rest for the last two months," Lucian commented, crawling onto the bed and reaching around John to undo the button and zip of his jeans before pulling them and his pants down. He left them around John's calves, preventing any more kicking. "Shame for you, but of course, that's why I came after you now. Emotional, filled with pain and looking to kill, wanting to feel something physically to take away the emotional trauma of your mother's eminent death." He bit gently, almost lovingly at a section of skin on John's lower back. "I gave you everything you wanted, John. Everything," he whispered, his breath hot as he slowly licked his way down. "Your life, your Omega bitch, your children. Time to give back."

 

            John was ashamed of the whimper and the small cries of pain and discomfort he made when the first slicked finger entered him, and then the second, and he was more ashamed of how quickly his body reacted as soon as his prostate was flicked and rubbed.  _Don'tdon'tdon'tpleasedon't_ , he whispered, over and over in his head, but he couldn't form the words, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would do nothing but scream. 

 

           

            "That's a good boy," Lucian praised as he finally pulled out, grabbing himself in anticipation. The auburn haired man ran his hand over the smaller man's back, occasionally dipping his fingers down lower. "You'll get used to it eventually," he promised, leaning up and biting at one of the scars he had put on John’s back himself.

 

            John whimpered at the contact, then jumped at the raised voices outside. He didn't understand what they were saying, but apparently Lucian did, because he was immediately on his feet, pulling his trousers back on and pulling a gun out from under the bed. "Stay here, pet. I'll be right back. I’m not done with you yet," Lucian commanded, moving to the door. 

 

            He was just reaching for the handle when gunshots sounded, some from right outside the door, others from further down the hall. Lucian swore, but before he could do anything, the door was busted down and a bullet was fired through his head. 

 

            John whimpered when someone approached him, and he flinched as a blanket was draped gently over him. "My sincere apologies, John. I should have tried harder." John's wrists were cut lose by someone else and he was given a gentle shot of something in his arm, and the last thing he saw before he passed out was the blurry form of Mycroft Holmes texting on his phone.

 

 

Sherlock kept a close eye on Katherine, making sure she ate the sandwich, his foot bouncing as he awaited word from Mycroft about John, or better yet, word from John himself. He swallowed thickly as he cleaned the dishes. He and Katherine and Hamish ended up settled on the sofa, and he turned on the telly for her, his phone in one hand as if keeping it there would make it go off sooner.

 

            The program about butterflies was nearly over when his phone went off a few times, and he picked it up quickly to review the messages. 

 

_John is safe, we have him. MH_

_The American, and the other men in the building were killed. MH_

 

            Sherlock let out a breath of relief, closing his eyes a moment. Safe didn't mean unharmed, he knew that. But safe wasn't dead, and it wasn't dying. He could work with safe.

 

It wasn't an easy process, convincing Katherine to get go of him long enough for him to actually leave. He didn't want to leave her, god knows he didn't want to, but when Mycroft contacted him again saying they were taking John to Bart's...he had to go. And he couldn't bring Katherine, being there once had already been hard enough. Greg came by not long after the initial text, Elizabeth in hand.

"I'll take care of them, you go to him," he said. Katherine didn't want to be left, but Sherlock told her that she would be safe with her Uncle Greg, and that he was going to go see Papa, and that the bad man was gone now. 

 

            When Sherlock got to the hospital he went straight to where Mycroft told him, seeing his brother there. "They've given him an exam and there appears to be no permanent physical damage, this man...he wasn't conventional in his preferences brother. I am sorry we did not get to John sooner.” He held out a small bag for him. In it, was Katherine's old bear, the bit of his shirt, and John's tags...the ones that had been taken from him. He nodded once, letting himself into the room carefully and closing the door. He threw away the bear and bit of fabric, now reeking of the Alpha, and he washed the tags before draping them around his neck next to John's old ones. John was curled up in the hospital bed, no wires or tubes, so it wasn't that type of injury. "John?" he called softly, resting his hand on top of his mate's.

 

John withdrew his hand instinctively, tucking it into his side, wrapping his arm around his waist. He didn't want to open his eyes, though the drug had completely worn off and he was entirely alert now. He didn't want to see Sherlock, didn't want to talk about what had happened, what had very nearly happened.

 

            Slowly, John peeled his eyes open, gazing up at Sherlock. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his shoulders starting to shake again. Lucian had been right. He had been searching for people to kill and for some pain to take back home, and he had been given all of that. "I'm so sorry.” His voice cracked slightly as he turned, his head away and burying his face in the pillow.

 

Sherlock blinked once, everything sliding into place in his head and he knew what had happened. Mycroft said, unconventional preferences. An Alpha who liked Alphas, not only that, but strong, otherwise unbreakable ones. It was clear though, the way John was laying, holding himself. Sherlock knew it, he knew it because he'd done that, he had been in that position. It had become normal to him in that place. He let out a shaky breath, pulling a chair over and sitting close to John's bed. He didn't touch him again, just looking at him. Sherlock had hated being touched, John had been different, at first he was too out of it to notice or care, but it had been nice with John. 

 

            But this was John's experience, and it was different from Sherlock's, so he would wait for permission. "You have nothing to apologise for John. That...that wasn't your fault," he said quietly. "Do you understand?"

 

John shook his head, curling his legs closer to himself, putting up defences where he logically knew he shouldn't be, but he couldn't help it. "I went looking for him. I wanted to hurt someone, and I wanted to get hurt back. I-I wasn't thinking. Shouldn't have gone," he forced out. He locked his muscles in place, because any movement hurt. He was still recovering from his last encounter with that man, and now this.

 

Sherlock let out a breath, "You were looking to get revenge for what he did to Katherine and your mother, and you wanted to get knocked about a bit so you wouldn't have to focus on that...you didn't ask for this, John," he said. "I agree you shouldn't have gone, but that's just because Katherine missed you.”   

 

He wanted to ask to hold John's hand, but didn't see that as being received well. He let out a breath, pulling off his coat and draping it over John, enveloping him in his scent. "Please look at me?" he asked softly, "I don't want you to be afraid to look at me, just like you told me at the very beginning...when you took me from that place. Remember?"

 

John almost immediately calmed when he was flooded with Sherlock's scent, the scent of his mate, one that was matched so close to his own, but he could distinguish them easily now. The weight of the coat was nice, too, comforting and warm. With a small whimper, he peeled his eyes open again, turning his head to look over at Sherlock. "I'm not afraid to look at you. I just don't... don't want you to see me like this," he said quietly.

 

Sherlock looked at John steadily, swallowing. "You're still John, my mate. And still very much my Alpha," he said, tilting his neck up to show the bit of bruising that was still there from when he wouldn't let go of Hamish. Still the only person that could have gotten me to give him up. “What I see...is that you're hurt, and that I want to help you, but I know that it's hard for you. And that as much as I want to crawl into that bed and let you hold me, so you know that I'm still yours...you might not want me to."

 

John watched Sherlock steadily as he spoke, swallowing back burning tears as he listened. He choked on another sob, holding his hand out when Sherlock was done and gesturing him to come onto the bed. He needed the comfort, as much as he hated to say it. He needed to take some of Sherlock's strength with the promise of giving it back later. But he needed it right now, needed _him_  right now.

 

Sherlock stood, nudging off his shoes and climbing into the hospital bed. He was on his left side, facing John, John curled on his right since his left shoulder was his bad one. "Wherever you need me." he said, not sure if John wanted to spoon or if he should just curl up into his chest, so he waited, going at John's pace.

 

"Just... closer," John whispered, wrapping his arm around Sherlock and pulling him forward until their bodies were nearly pressed together. He tightened his arm around Sherlock, burying his face in his curls and crying quietly, internally grateful that Sherlock hadn't brought Katherine along.

 

Sherlock complied, laying one hand over John's waist and tangling their legs together gently. He closed his eyes, chest almost physically aching for John as he shook with each quiet sob. John was strong, he could get through this...he knew he could, it would just take time. How ever much time he needed. He knew enough of Alpha physiology that most of the damage would be psychological.

 

John wasn't sure how long he cried, how long he held onto Sherlock, but he was aware that it must have been a long time, finally letting go of everything that had happened. In that hotel, in that cave…

 

            A nurse came in as he finally started to calm once more."Got your blood tests back," she said softly. "You're clean, so you can leave whenever you're ready. She walked up and set a bottle of pills on the table beside the bed. "Something to help with sleep if it’s needed," she explained gently. "You should be back to normal by tomorrow morning, physically that is." She gave another soft smile before leaving, closing the door behind herself.

 

Sherlock thanked the nurse softly from where he was, not moving an inch, his thumb gently rubbing circles into the small of John's back. "What do you want to do?" he asked softly. “We can stay here...if you want to. Greg has the kids," he murmured softly against John's chest. He wondered if he was close enough...close enough to the end of his heat if he could trigger one more cycle, he could try to take half of an inducer, since a whole one hadn't been a good idea last time. But then...would John be ready for that? He swallowed, pressing a kiss to John's chest. They were in a hospital...he could easily find some...

 

John sniffed, wiping at his eyes. "I want to go home. Katherine needs us there, as good as Greg is with her. And I'd rather... I'd rather sleep in our bed with our scents than in a hospital." He slowly sat up, cringing and hissing before quickly pushing to his feet. He kept Sherlock's coat wrapped around him and eventually just pulled it on properly. "Can you grab the medicine, please?" he asked softly.

 

There went that plan. Sherlock nodded once, standing up and grabbing the bottle of pills. He walked over and looped his arm with one of John's, supporting him. "She'll be happy to see you...only thing she's said since you left was that she wanted you," he said as they slowly walked from the room. He saw one of Mycroft's assistants filling out paperwork and knew John's discharge was being taken care of, and they made their way from the hospital, getting into a car that was waiting for them. Mycroft was inside, waiting as well. "I hope you don't mind me riding along, Gregory is still at your flat after all," he said softly, looking at his brother as he wrapped an arm around John. 

 

            Sherlock eyed his brother, not saying anything. It seemed odd, and yet Sherlock found it easier to forgive his brother now. He may not have saved Sherlock from that place, but he had saved John. And it was enough. "You haven't met Elizabeth yet, have you John?" Mycroft has softly, obviously attempting some sort of normal conversation since he knew that John had in fact not seen the infant. Sherlock had to admit it was pretty good, figuring Greg was having a good influence on his brothers 'people' skills.

 

John leaned against Sherlock, looking up from where his hands were folded on his lap. He shook his head slowly, having a hard time meeting Mycroft's eyes. "No, I haven't," he said softly. "Sherlock says that she looks like you, though," he said, managing a small smile at his brother-in-law.

 

"Rather unfortunate really if that is indeed true," he said with a small smirk, "However, as opposed to most infants as I usually am I find she is rather attractive," he said. Mycroft had always had a thing about very small pups, thought they made too much a mess. Sherlock liked seeing the affection he had towards Elizabeth. Sherlock reached down and took one of John's hands, giving it a small squeeze.

 

"I'm sure she's gorgeous," John commented, though the talk only made him ache for his own daughter, whom he had a deeper attachment to than his son. He clung tightly to Sherlock's hand, running his thumb over his knuckles and dropping his gaze to the floor.

 

_It's okay,_  Sherlock tried to say with the squeeze of John’s hand. Soon enough they were in front of the flat and Sherlock got out, helping John when he needed it as they headed upstairs. When they finally reached the top, Sherlock pushed open the door. There was the sound of feet slapping the floor as Katherine bounded across the living room, attaching herself to John's legs, hugging herself to his thighs tightly and burying her face into his trousers, shaking a little, but being completely quiet still.

 

"Hey, whoa, easy, baby, easy," John whispered, picking Katherine up and holding her tightly against his chest. "You're alright, and so am I," he murmured, nodding across the room at Greg and smiling when he saw the infant in his arms. "She does look a bit like Mycroft, yeah," he said to Sherlock as he ran his hand over Kat's back. "Greg, has she said anything while we've been gone?" he asked, referring to Kat, who buried her face against his neck.

 

Greg shook his head, burping the small pup in his arms as he'd finished feeding her a handful of minutes before. "Not a word, she's been in your chair, all but guarding Hamish." he said, nodding towards the swing that Hamish was sleeping in. "Changed him and gave him a bottle before putting him back in there," he said, casting a glance towards Mycrof, who nodded once. He stood, grabbing the bag with Elizabeth's things. "Well we should probably go, Lizbeth needs a bath, and you two probably want some time alone. Feel better John, Sherlock...take care of him."

 

            Once everyone had left Sherlock walked over to check Hamish himself, keeping an eye on John and Katherine.

 

John sagged a little once they were alone, and he nuzzled against Kat's shoulder, trading scents with her and humming a soft tune close to her ear. "Let's go to bed. Papa's tired," he murmured, slowly starting to walk towards the bedroom. He set Kat down on the bed, much to her displeasure, and walked over to the chest of drawers. Quickly, he stripped out of Sherlock's coat and the hospital gown before he pulled on his warmest, softest pyjamas and crawled into bed beside Kat. "Come here, love. You always make me feel better," he whispered, holding his arms out for her.

 

Sherlock let John go down the hall with Katherine, they needed time together as well, and he acknowledged that. He picked up Hamish, who he was a little worried about, he seemed to be sleeping a lot, but then perhaps he was simply sleeping off the stress. He woke the pup up though, deciding to have him play and have some tummy time, that way he would sleep that night.

 

            Katherine crawled over and climbed onto her Papa's lap, nuzzling close to him.

 

John leaned his head back against the headboard, but soon sitting started to become uncomfortable, and he gently switched to lying on his side, curled up so that Katherine was encased in him and his scent, snuggled against his chest the way she was. "You know, every time I've talked to you, I've been poking at you. I never once asked you how you are," John said softly, combing his fingers through her black curls. "And I feel horrible about that, Katty. I'm so sorry." He kissed the top of her head and held her closer. "Are you okay, baby? Really, how are you?"

 

Katherine sniffled once, humming a small bit. She didn't say anything for a couple minutes, until she finally let out a small breath, mumbling quietly, her words indistinguishable. She fiddled with the fabric of her Papa's shirt, then smoothed it down, petting it softly as she shrugged a fraction.

 

"Katty, baby, please," John said, his voice soft and a little sad. "Please, you're worrying me and your daddy. I just want to know that you're alright. And I want to help you if you're not, yeah?" he asked quietly, tilting her chin up until her grey eyes met his, and he smiled down at her.

 

"Mmmm," Katherine whined softly, a couple soft cries coming from her. "W-was scared, Papa," she whimpered, her face hidden in his chest. "Was s-so sc-cared," she said, finally starting to cry more, shaking a bit as she thought back to being at her Gran's house, the man there, the way he looked at her and Hamish, his smile after the gun went of and Gran was there, bleeding. 

 

John's chest ached for his daughter, and he held her close, rocking her gently. "I know, sweetheart, I know. It's alright to be scared, though. There's nothing wrong with that, nothing at all. And you were so brave, weren't you? You helped your Gran, you saved her life, Katherine, you did." He kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes and letting go of a few tears himself. "You know that I still get scared, right? All the time. Every day that I was away, I was scared. Every time I had to save someone, I was scared. But we're together now, aren't we? Two brave doctors trying to save the world," he whispered, his voice wavering a little.

 

Katherine sniffled, nodding a little to what he said. She coughed, trying to get her breathing more under control. "B-bad.... man. Said...w-wanted Papa. S-said was gonna g-get Papa," she said quietly, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "H-had my bear."

 

John petted down Katherine's face gently, stroking away her tears and murmuring quiet things to her to help her calm down. "I know he did, but it's alright, love, because he's gone now. He's never coming back. Papa and your Uncle Mycroft took care of the bad men, and they won't come back," he promised, kissing her forehead gently.

 

Katherine nodded a bit again, leaning her head up and pressing a kiss to John’s cheek gently, which had a bruise on it. "Daddy said...that Papa got rid of bad man," she mumbled quietly, nuzzling close to his chest again. "MmloveyouPapa." she mumbled softly. 

 

            Sherlock stepped into the room then, holding a now awake Hamish. He eased into bed, settling the infant down onto his chest. "Hey Katty girl," he said softly, patting her side. 

 

"I love you, too, Katty. Forever and ever," John promised, holding Kat close. He glanced up when Sherlock walked into the room to lay down beside them, and he tried smiling at his mate, though it didn't much work. 

 

            Katherine sniffled against John's chest, wiping her tears off on his shirt. "'lo, Daddy," she said quietly.

 

Sherlock smiled softly down at Katherine, moving his eyes up to meet John's. "I think...we should, see about calling someone," he said, knowing John would know he meant a therapist. He looked down at Katherine pointedly, then back up to John. They all needed one really, at this rate. 

 

"I know we should," John whispered, sagging against the mattress. He didn't want to give Kat up for so long, though. Not with a stranger, not when he wouldn't be there in the room. But he knew that she needed it. "You could probably go to one at the same time. Lord knows, with everything that's been happening, it might be a good idea for you to talk to someone." 

 

Sherlock looked at him, "I think from this position...you might need that more, John. It was too late for me to see someone when it happened to me, by then it had become normal for me, and that was Alphas and Betas...your situation is different." He looked down at Katherine. "One of us...needs to be in the room though, with her." That or they needed a child's advocate to sit in with her.

 

 "I'm fine. I don’t need a therapist again," John argued firmly, because he wasn't going to go see a therapist again, he just wasn't. Not for anything. He looked down at Kat, finding her already looking up at him, and smiled softly. "I'll go in with her, if they let me. Would you be okay with that?" he asked Kat, stroking gently through her curls.

 

Sherlock sighed, that was to be expected he supposed. He looked down at Katherine as she looked up at John, brows furrowed. "Whas'a there pissed?" she asked quietly, confused. "Want Papa to go...what's a there pissed?"

 

"No, sweetheart, a ther-a-pist," John murmured gently, sounding it out for her. "That's just a person who listens to what you have to say. They're really nice people," he said softly, smiling at her. "And I'll ask if I can come in with you, so that it's not so scary."

 

Katherine eyed her papa carefully. "If ther-a-pist is nice person...why don't want to see one?" She asked softly. Sherlock smirked at the counter argument, almost proud at it. Hell, he was proud of it as it was a good argument. 

 

John sighed, nuzzling close to his daughter and holding tightly onto her. "Because Papa has done some very bad things, baby," he whispered to her. "Some very bad things, and no matter who I talk to, I will never forgive myself for them. And if I have to talk to someone, I would rather talk to your daddy than I would talk to a therapist."

 

"Papa's not bad though. Papa...got rid of bad man." She said, resting a hand on his uninjured cheek. "And helps people get better,” she said with a yawn. She shifted a bit on the bed, thumb entering her mouth once more as she started to doze off.

           

            Sherlock looked back at Hamish, smiling softly as the infant grinned at him. He reached up around his neck and pulled off John's older pair of tags. The ones he normally wore, and handed them to John. "These are hers. I promised them to her, and they might make her feel safer. She's our little soldier now anyway."

 

John looked down at the tags in his hand, his old tags, full of battle scars and bad memories. He sighed, draping them around his own neck and going back to cuddling Kat. "I'll give them to her in the morning. Hopefully she sleeps from now until then," he said softly, wishing he could just burn them, burn away everything that linked him back to the desert. He wanted nothing to do with it anymore. He glanced at Sherlock and let out a breath. “I know you’re concerned. But I don’t need to talk to anyone professional alright? It… it didn’t happen. Not all the way. He was, stopped in time,” he said gently. “It’s just everything combined, seeing him again brought a lot back, and what he almost did… anyway, it’s over now. I'm going to go make a cuppa," he said quietly, slowly shifting out of Kat's hold. "Would you like one?"

 

Sherlock put an arm around Katherine when John carefully pulled away, so that way she didn't wake from no longer being held. "That would be good, yes," he said, rubbing her stomach gently as that was where his hand was resting. He looked back at Hamish, who was being remarkably quiet for his normal, boisterous self. "What about you Mish? I haven't asked about you, have I mate?" he asked softly, smoothing down the infant's soft, blond hair. Hamish grinned at him, cooing softly and tugging on his shirt as he tried to push himself up more.

 

John smiled down at his family before slowly walking from the room, padding down the hall and turning on the kettle. He collapsed in a chair, ripping the tags off and tossing them across the table before he broke down in sobs again, crying quietly into his hands. He couldn't stop thinking of the desert, of that horrid place where he had been, of Lucian and the things that had been done to him. 

 

            The kettle going off scared the shit out of him, and he jumped to his feet, quickly fixing two cups of tea and wiping his eyes and cheeks before walking back into the bedroom and handing Sherlock his mug. "Hamish is being quiet. Perhaps he should go see a therapist, too," John suggested quietly, sitting down to sip his tea, though it was uncomfortable.

 

Sherlock sat up carefully, sitting Hamish between his knees and holding him so the pup could sit upright and watch them. He took the cup, not mentioning anything about the signs of crying, or the absence of John's tags. He took a sip, looking back at Hamish. "I think he is okay, he's only four months old, he doesn't understand what it is he saw. He seems attentive enough..." he said, smiling at Hamish who grinned at him. 

 

John let out a breath, sipping his tea when it was still scalding. "I hope nothing happened to him that Katherine didn't see," he murmured, reaching out his had to take one of Hamish's hands between his fingers. He sighed a little, taking another sip and humming to himself. "I know you can see that they're gone," he said quietly, referring to his tags. "So why don't you ask about it? I know you notice a lot more than you mention. Why?"

 

"It's hard to tell, physically he seems fine though." he said quietly, sipping his tea. He let out a breath at John’s question, looking down at his tea. "I figured if you wanted to discuss it, then you would bring it up. I don't want to upset you," he said softly. "I've been with you long enough; I do have some sense of people skills.”

 

John grinned for a second, taking another sip of his tea before he set it aside and shuffled so that he was lying down again. He took Kat into his arms once more and snuggled with her, kissing the top of her head. "I don't know," he whispered, glancing up at Sherlock. "Sometimes I just feel like I never left Afghanistan. Like I never can leave."

 

Sherlock nodded once, "People like us...people who go places like that, see those things, do...what we had to do..." he let out a breath. "There is one of two outcomes. Either part of us stays there, or we carry a part of it with us," he said softly. "You've left John; you'll just always have a bit of sand in your blood,” he said. "Just as I have that place...with me always. That, and every place I went during my...absence," he murmured. He held out his hand and Hamish giggled a little, slapping his hand before gripping onto it with both hands.

 

John made a small affirming sound which expressed his thoughts more than words could at the moment. He curled closer to Kat, wishing that he could take away all of the things that she had seen, give her her innocence back and let her grow up like a normal child. But he supposed that that had never been an option for her. "Wake me in the morning?" he asked, suddenly tired.

 

Sherlock nodded, scooting back down more to lay after setting his cup aside, hauling Hamish back up onto his chest, holding his hands. "I'll stay up with him, till he falls asleep," he said, looking over at John. "You rest as long as you need, just...don't disappear again in the morning?"

 

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that for a long time," John commented, curling up around Katherine and humming softly to himself. He knew that there was always the possibility of disappearing into his mind, but he didn't find that likely either. Not tonight. "Goodnight, love," he murmured before quickly falling asleep.

 

"Goodnight." Sherlock murmured softly, playing with his son's hands. Hamish kept him awake for another hour and a half, but the infant soon fell asleep again after a quick change and topping him off with a small bottle. He laid him into his crib and then changed into pyjamas, climbing into his bed and draping an arm over John, their daughter tucked snugly between the two of them. He kissed Katherine's head and then closed his eyes, though it would be another hour of laying like that before he fell asleep.

 

John awoke to Katherine mumbling something, and when he listened closer, it sounded like she was having a conversation with someone, probably remembering talking to the people from the A&E when she called. "Katty," he whispered, shaking her gently. "Katty, baby, wake up, please." Kat's eyelids fluttered open, and John smiled down at her, wrapping his arms tighter around her. "There you are, beautiful."

 

Katherine was back at Grans house, and her ears were ringing a little, and she could hear Hamish screaming. Gran was on the floor and Katherine was holding one of Hamish's blankets against her stomach, her hands sticky with red. She ran and got the phone, crying into it that a bad man hurt her Gran and that her baby brother was crying and that she was scared...only she couldn't hear anything an-

 

            She blinked her eyes open, inhaling a little sharply and looking around for a moment, as if she wasn't sure where she was. Her eyes fell on her Papa and she let out a breath, yawning a little as she rubbed one of her eyes.

 

John smiled at his daughter, kissing her forehead. "Nightmares?" he asked softly, though of course he knew. "I still have those, too. Nothing wrong with nightmares, baby. Sometimes they help us see things that we missed." He sighed, combing through Kat's hair and continuing to murmur softly to her.

 

Katherine blinked a couple times, nodding. She sniffed and sat up, looking towards Hamish's crib, seeing him laying there in the dim light, sleeping and not crying. She settled back on the bed and looked back up at her Papa. "Mhm...don'want nightmares though," she said quietly, clearing her throat a little.

 

"I know," John soothed, stroking his fingers through her hair and lightly running the pad of his thumb across her cheek. "I'll call a therapist today, alright? Why don't you try to sleep again, baby? You need some rest." It was too early for either of them to be up, really. But he wouldn't go back to sleep until he knew Katherine was okay.

 

Katherine rubbed her nose a little, then shook her head. "Mmnot tired," she said quietly, suppressing a yawn. She shifted on the bed a little, which caused Sherlock to stir, though he didn't wake.

 

John glanced over at his mate, letting out a breath, before he gathered Katherine into his arms. "Alright. Let's go into the living room then, hmm? Sit by the fire and read a book. How does that sound?" he asked, scooping her up into his arms and grabbing the bottle of pills on his bedside table before making his way silently into the living room. "I'm going to go take these, and then I'll be back," he whispered, setting Kat down in his chair before walking into the kitchen.

 

"Mhm." Katherine hummed with a small nod, wrapping her arms around his neck when she was picked up. She settled onto the chair, then slid off of it and wandered over to her shelf next to the fireplace, looking at the books there. Most were at her level of reading, which was a bit above her age, she could read at a six-year-old level, but she had already read those. She reached up on her toes and grabbed a copy of The Hobbit from the upper shelf, shuffling back to the chair.

 

John took the painkillers with a quick drink of water, eating a banana as well so that there would be something in his stomach to help the pills work. He wandered back into the living room after, lifting Katherine up and setting her on his lap as soon as he had sat down. "Oh, the Hobbit," John said with a smile, taking the book from her and smiling to himself. "Would you like me to read it to you, or do you want to try?" he asked quietly.

 

"Papa reads." she said quietly, settling onto his lap and leaning against this shoulder. She sniffed once, thumb going into her mouth as she looked at the book. "Mm’liked...cartoon," she mumbled around the digit in her mouth, "Mm’want...hear 'ook." he said softly.

 

John sighed a little at the fact that Katherine was back to sucking her thumb again, but he didn't make a comment, simply holding her close and kissing the top of her head before he started reading. "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort." He kissed the top of her head again before continuing on.

 

Katherine sighed a little as her papa read to her, she liked it when he read stories to her. He did nice voices for the characters, and he dragged his finger under the words so she could look at each one as it was read, making it easier for her to follow. About half an hour into the story Katherine's head bobbed forward a bit, tilting back up quickly only to start falling forward once more until eventually she had fallen back asleep, not able to keep her eyes open anymore.

 

John set the book aside once Katherine was sleeping, but he kept holding her like that, talking nonsense to her and rubbing her back gently to help keep her from having a nightmare again. He wasn't tired anymore, not after being awake for this long, so he just kept holding her, loving on her, until the sun had risen completely.

 

Sherlock woke up to Hamish cooing softly in his crib, pulling his eyes open and sitting up to see the infant in his crib, looking at him. Hamish was rolled over onto his stomach and gripping the bars of his crib, exploring the new bed it seemed. Smiling a bit, Sherlock got up and crossed the room, lifting up the still chatting infant and taking him over to change him, "Morning Misha," he murmured, tickling the pup's stomach gently, which coaxed shrill giggles from him. 

 

            When Hamish was dressed, and Sherlock had pulled on a dressing gown, they started down the hall to find John holding a sleeping Katherine. "Nightmares," he stated, looking at her as he sat down across from them. "To be expected I suppose, she has a fairly high level of comprehension for an almost five-year-old, we’ll not avoid this affecting her," he said with a sigh, wishing this once, that Katherine didn't understand as much as she did.

 

John nodded, watching Hamish's movements and how quiet he still was. He couldn't help but worry about him as well. "But if she didn't have, Mum would have died, and they probably would have been taken," John said quietly, stroking through Kat's hair when she stirred a little at his voice, but she fell back asleep in short order. 

 

Sherlock hummed a bit in response to that. "Fair point," he murmured softly, bouncing Hamish on his knee gently. "Now we just handle what is left over from it all, because it's over.” He smiled softly as he looked up at John. They all needed to heal, John, Katherine, Mindy...perhaps even Hamish. But this was the end of it, John was assured he was never going back, and there was no one else from that time who could touch them.

 

Over. Christ, John hoped so. He held Katty closer to himself, closing his eyes as he rested his cheek on top of her head. "I'm going to call my old therapist today, see if she can recommend a good child therapist," he said softly, looking up at Sherlock. 

 

"I think that might be a good idea," he murmured. "She needs to see someone at least once, that way we know if...if it would be considered a good idea for her to continue," he said, getting up and laying out a blanket, grabbing a few toys from a small basket, and setting Hamish on the floor on his stomach, putting the toys just out of his reach. "There you go, little bit of work for you." He rubbed the infant's back before taking his seat again, steepling his fingers beneath his chin.

 

John watched Hamish for a little while, smiling as he tried reaching for the toys and became frustrated when he couldn't get to them. "How are you feeling?" he asked quietly, looking back up at Sherlock. When he got a questioning look in response, he nodded pointedly at Sherlock's stomach, then flicked his gaze back up to his mate. "Still okay about that?"

 

Sherlock looked down at his stomach, about to ask what John meant when he remembered, his heat. He'd almost forgotten about that, about what they decided. He looked back up at John, "Do you mean to ask if I physically feel okay, or do I feel okay about what we discussed?" he asked, pretty sure he meant the latter. "I am... okay. With it, yes," he said, looking down at Hamish. The infant pushed himself up with his arms and lowered himself again, effectively wiggling to inch a bit closer to one of the toys, grabbing it and bringing it directly to his mouth.

 

John nodded, rocking Katherine gently and looking down at Hamish. "Everything's going to be fine, you know," he said softly. "We can move, get married. Raise our family. We'll be okay." He sighed as Hamish took the toy out of his mouth and shook it hard, causing it to rattle before he threw it across the room and tried reaching for another toy. 

 

"Impatient thing." Sherlock smirked, looking at the toy and watching as Hamish rolled over to his back, reaching over and grabbing the small rattle that had a pacifier clipped to it. He put the stuffy into his mouth, then moved to the pacifier, sucking on it gently. Sherlock looked at John, letting out a breath. "I suppose we can," he said softly. He smiled a bit at the thought, "Married...we still haven't picked a date," he said softly. "April...or May, perhaps," he mused, finding it an odd feeling. Nothing was hanging over their heads, for what seemed like the first time. The events of the day before were terrible, but concluded. The man responsible for so much of John’s pain was dead. The only enemies left from their past were inside of them. And those were easily dispatched with time.

 

"May would have more flowers and better weather," John said, rubbing his hands through Katherine's hair. "How about May 24th? That would work nicely, I think." He pressed his lips to Kat's forehead, trying to rouse her from sleep, now. "Katty, baby, time to wake up," he murmured, bouncing her gently. "Come on, sweetheart, Daddy's up too. And Misha's playing, and the sun is shining. It's a lovely day. Why don't you join us, hmm?"

 

"Mmm," Katherine whined sleepily as she was woken up, rolling a bit in John's arms and burying her face in the crook of his elbow. She sighed, then lifted her head, blinking dazedly, sleep in her eyes. "Mm...Papa?" she asked, yawning a little. "But was..." another yawn, "reading 'bout Bilbo..." she said, stretching.

 

John smiled down at his daughter, readjusting her so that she was sitting more beside him, facing Sherlock as well. "We can keep reading tonight before bed, if you like," he offered, leaning over to kiss her temple. "Why don't you run upstairs and get dressed. We can have breakfast when you get back down, okay?"

 

Katherine sniffed once, picking a bit of sleep out of the corner of her eye as she nodded. She slid off of his lap, walking towards Sherlock and leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek before starting upstairs. Sherlock watched her ascend the steps, letting out a breath. 

 

            "Were he not already dead, I would kill him," he said. "You should make those crepes she likes, if you're feeling up to it. Might cheer her up a bit, I doubt my cooking will." he said. He looked over at Hamish, smiling a bit. "Four months today Misha," he said softly.

 

John scrubbed his face with his hands, wishing that Sherlock would have volunteered to cook, but he wouldn't complain. "Yeah, alright. And I wish I could have killed him," he muttered, standing up and stretching gingerly before making his way into the kitchen. He cooked methodically, staring hard at the pan and the food in it. He did his best not to dwell on what had happened. Over and done, and it could have been much, much worse. He walked over to the opposite cupboard, taking out the Irish Malt whiskey and pouring himself a hard shot before he put it away and went back to finish cooking.

 

Sherlock got out of his chair and patted Hamish's belly, the infant busy staring at something on the ceiling, before walking into the kitchen. He sighed, rinsing out the shot glass and putting it in the cupboard. He didn't say anything, John knew full well what time it was, and how it was something he should be careful with. Sherlock decided to try and trust him with it, though he would take care to make sure it didn't become habit. "Anything I can help with in here?" he asked, nodding towards the cooking.

 

John eyed Sherlock when he walked in, shaking his head when he offered to help. "I've got it covered. Nearly done now, anyway," he said with a small smile, going back to focusing on the food. He knew it was early, stupidly early, to be having a shot of whiskey, but Jesus, he needed it. He dished up the first two crepes onto plates before starting on another two. "I should call Harry today. Ask on Mum," he said, switching the topic of an unspoken conversation.

 

"Mm, yeah that's a good idea. See when it would be alright for her to have visitors. I think it would be beneficial for Katherine to see your mother once she's well enough," he said, grabbing some strawberry syrup from the cupboard, knowing Katherine liked it. "Might reassure her a bit," he said quietly. He walked over and pressed a kiss to John's cheek, "I'm going to get Hamish in his high chair." He walked out to the living room to see that their son had shimmied almost off of his play area. "Get over here," he said with a small smile, living the wriggling infant up off the floor and carrying him back into the kitchen.

 

John quickly made the other two crepes, not caring that there would be one extra, and then walked over to the base of the stairs. "Katherine! Breakfast!" he called, smiling a little when he heard her feet on the floor. He returned to the kitchen, pouring three glasses of milk and setting everything out onto the table before he sat down, his hands folded in his lap as he awaited everyone else.

 

Sherlock carried Hamish into the kitchen and reached into his highchair to pull out the cushion he had in there. He'd designed it, measuring everything, so that it helped support Hamish so he could sit up since he didn't quite have the hang of it. He sat the infant down and buckled him in, sticking the cushion in around him before setting down a toy on the tray. He sat down just as Katherine came down the steps, dressed, though her hair still looked like a bird's nest.  

 

            She looked at the table, the corner of her mouth lifting as she settled into her seat, looking up at John. "Papa's crepes!" she said.

 

John smiled, gesturing her to go ahead and eat as he started to spread jam on his. "It was Daddy's idea," he said softly, casting a look over the table at Sherlock before he took a bite of his crepe. He ate slowly, putting the last crepe on Kat's plate when he saw her getting close to done with the first. "I'm going to call Harry after this and then shower," he said, taking a sip of his milk. "May as well get the talking out of the way first. Hopefully it won't be a long conversation."

 

Katherine had a proper grin on her face when she turned towards Sherlock, "Good idea Daddy," she said, a bit of strawberry syrup on her chin. She looked over at John when he mentioned her aunt Harry. She sniffed, swallowing the bite of crepe in here mouth, "S'Gran okay?" she asked, concern in her voice. 

 

John reached out and wiped the bit of syrup from Katherine's chin, smiling at her. "Of course, she is," he promised, though he had no idea. But he knew that his mother could be dying, and he would still lie to Kat and promise her that everything would be fine. "I just want to check up on her and Harry both, make sure that your Auntie is sleeping and eating and everything."

 

"Oh." Katherine said softly, "Okay." She picked up her glass, swallowing a couple mouthfuls. Sherlock smiled at her, looking over at John. Harry would have called them if something had changed with their mother. Though because they hadn't been called yet about her waking up, Sherlock was a bit concerned, unless they had missed the call.

 

John waited for everyone else to finish eating before he stood, walking towards the bedroom. He kissed Sherlock's head as he passed, then closed the door gently behind himself. Quickly, he called his sister, getting frustrated and worried when she didn't answer, and then calling again. This time she picked up, and he had a hard time understanding what she was saying, because she was talking so quickly and crying on top of it. "Harry, please," John begged. "Take a deep breath and walk me through it." By the time she had finished explaining everything, he was in a small state of shock. He hung up, padding into the bathroom and turning on the shower, and sitting on the toilet as he worked to catch his breath.

 

            Sherlock cleaned up the kitchen, kissing Katherine's head as he told her she could go play. Katherine nodded once, walking into the living room instead and climbing up onto the sofa, turning on the telly. Sherlock furrowed his brow, she almost always wanted to go up and play on her own. When John didn't emerge from his normally short morning shower he became concerned. He put Hamish into his swing and turned it on, looking at Katherine. "I'm going to go check on your Papa, you stay right there okay?" he said. "I'll be just down the hall."

 

            With a nod from his daughter he went down the hall and let himself into the bathroom. He instantly knew something was wrong, hearing a shuddering breath. Sherlock walked into the bathroom and instantly knelt in front of his mate. "John..." he breathed, "John, god...what's happened?" he asked, though he was forming a pretty good idea of what it was in his head. Mindy, a call to Harry. Something was wrong.

 

John shook his head, instantly collecting himself in the face of his mate. He let out a harsh breath as Sherlock reached over to turn off the water of the shower. “I called Harry. She was a mess. M….Mum started hemorrhaging internally sometime during the night. She’s back in surgery, I don’t’ know how much more blood she can lose before she dies,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he closed his eyes, fighting off the tears trying to well up.

 

Sherlock leaned forward instantly and wrapped his arms around John. He held him awkwardly as John was sitting on the lid of the toilet. “Okay, alright, shh… John, it’s okay,” he said. “Your mother, her blood type, what is it? The hospital can do infusions, you know this. They have stocks, or perhaps you or Harry are a match.”

 

“She’s AB positive. I think, if she makes it through this surgery…well she’s likely receiving infusions now but they won’t do anything if they can’t stop the bleeding.” His voice was still cracked but he didn’t want to start crying. That wouldn’t help anything right now.

 

“John, she’ll be fine. I’m O positive. I can give her some if need be.” He smoothed down John’s hair. “As someone who spent years suppressing any semblance of emotion, I’m advising you to let this out John, you can. Don’t bottle it up. She’s a strong woman, you got it from her. She’ll survive this John,” he said, kissing his mate’s temple.

 

John bit his trembling lower lip, not knowing how to tell Sherlock that it wasn’t just his his mum, or Katherine, or Hamish, or even Sherlock himself that he was upset about. He let out a sob, and it was the pain that he still carried from Afghanistan, old wounds that had been brought up by his old tags, and new wounds that seemed to never want to heal. It was an ache that in six days, he and Sherlock would both have graves to visit and chocolate to eat. It was worry that the danger in their lives would never end. That they would always be trying to protect their children and themselves from mad men who wanted them dead.

 

But he couldn’t say any of that so he wound up just crying.

 

Sherlock continued holding John, and after a while his breathing seemed to slow down and John helped him to his feet. He took him into the room and sat him down on the bed, leaving the door open so he could hear Katherine or Hamish if they needed anything, and then curled up on the bed, continuing to hold John.

 

“She’s not going to die, John.” Sherlock’s voice was soft as he spoke. “She would have done so by now; she’s not going anywhere.” His fingers gently moved through the hair at the base of John’s neck and let out a soft breath.

 

There was the sound of gentle footsteps and Sherlock looked up, seeing Katherine standing by the side of the bed. “Papa?” she asked quietly, climbing up onto their bed and between their legs until she could wrap her arms around his middle. “S’okay Papa…right?” she asked quietly. “S’gonna get better.”

 

John worked back a sob that tried to bubble up out of his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. “Yeah baby,” he whispered, combing through her hair and looking up at Sherlock, his eyes still a bit damp. “Yeah, it’s going to get better. Everything’s alright.”

 

Sherlock rubbed her back, leaning forward and kissing John’s forehead. “I’m going to get Hamish,” he murmured, not wanting to leave him in his swing without a pair of eyes on him. He retrieved the infant who started babbling at him as soon as he was in sight, which elicited a smile from Sherlock. That was normal behaviour from Hamish; loud, chatting…perhaps he would be fine at least. One less to worry about. He carried the pup into their room, Katherine having taken up full residence in the centre of the bed, murmuring quietly to John.

 

John held tightly to Katherine once Sherlock had left, drawing comfort from her and giving some back. He smiled at some of the things she talked to him about—her dolls, the eleventh Doctor, how she would play her violin for him tomorrow if they were feeling better. “You’re my sweet, brave girl, Katty,” John whispered, kissing the top of her head and glancing up at Sherlock when he came into the room. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

 

Sherlock looked at the two of them, smiling. He wouldn’t allow himself to doubt that Mindy would be fine. She had to be, something had to go right for once. It had to. For now there was little they could do, and he knew John knew that. They could go to the hospital and wait, but that would be more stressful on the children, Katherine especially. No, they were better there waiting for the same answer they’d be given at the hospital, best to keep Katherine feeling safe at home. He continued to hold Hamish up, the infant squealing happily after his small kip. He reached towards John, making small grabby fists towards him.

 

“Oh, you want Katty to share you Papa hmm?” he asked, handing Hamish over to John and scooping Katty up onto his lap and cuddling her. “Why don’t we just trade hmm?” He tickled Katherine’s stomach gently which elicited a giggle from her.

 

“Daddy noooo!” She exclaimed between fits of giggles. It was so good to hear her laugh after everything.

 

John smiled, rolling onto his back and holding Hamish’s sides to keep him on his stomach. “Hello, Misha. How are you?” he asked, smiling up at the infant who slapped his chest and made some smacking sounds with his lips. “Oh, really? That good, hmm?” John smirked, moving his hands to Hamish’s hips so that he could hold himself up.

 

Katherine was watching Hamish bounced on John’s stomach, a squeal coming from him. “Hamish is funny,” she said, letting out a breath. “When’s he stop being a baby?” she asked, looking at Sherlock.

 

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, when he can talk I suppose. And when he knows how to use a toilet.” He hadn’t been expecting such a question from Katherine. She blinked in response.

 

“Oh,” was all she said in response, looking at her brother, who was shoving his fist into his mouth.

 

“Handful of months Katty,” John promised. “Once he’s a year old he should start talking some, and then it’ll just get better from there.” He smiled over at her, bouncing Hamish a little before letting him do it himself again. “You’ll have to teach him all about Doctor Who, and maybe you can read to him. And I can read the Hobbit to both of you.” Hamish made a loud noise, tugging on John’s shirt again, demanding attention.

 

Sherlock nodded. “That’s right Katty. Just a little while longer,” he said as he looked at Hamish. “We’ll have to take care of those manners, that way you have a nice little demeanour to show your Gran when she gets better.”

 

John hummed quietly in response, watching Hamish flailing his fists. He still hurt, he wasn’t sure how to fixt that, but he could shove it away, he could put on a brave face for his family, for the people he loved. “Why don’t we all go sit on the sofa and eat some popcorn and watch a movie, hmm? Katty, you can pick it out if you like.” He didn’t want to sit in bed all day, waiting for news.

 

Katherine nodded. “Lion King?” she asked, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Hamish’s head. “Misha not seen it.” She slid off of Sherlock’s lap and looked at them, hesitating a moment as if she didn’t want to go down the hallway alone.

 

“We’ll be right there Katty,” Sherlock said, trying to encourage her. “Why don’t you go get the DVD?” he asked. He knew this anxiety was something they would have to work with now, but she would get better. Katherine nodded in response and started down the hall.

 

After a bit of back and forth, trips to the loo for Katherine and to the kitchen to make popcorn, they all settled down to set the movie up. There was a news report on the telly about a robbery that resulted in murder as they were switching over to the DVD and Sherlock realized just how long it had been since he’d had a case. He missed it of course, but he wouldn’t trade any of the time with his family together for a case, not at all.

 

He and John both knew they would go back to work eventually. John needed time to heal more from his last tour, from everything with Mindy and the last encounter with the American. When Hamish was a bit older, or Sherlock could bear to be away and find a suitably trustable day care. His train of thoughts for the future was interrupted when Katherine started to speak, not ten minutes into the film.

 

“Daddy?” she asked softly.

 

“Yes Katherine?”

 

“Simba has a daddy…and a mummy,” she started, and Sherlock felt something in his stomach drop. No, far too early for such a question. John cast a sideways glance at Sherlock, which he met. “Why don’t have a papa? Mish and me don’have a mummy,” she added.  John started grinning once she reached the end of her inquiry, looking at Sherlock. He was planning on just letting him squirm unitl he saw the look of loss on his face and he took pity on him.

 

“Katty, sweetheart,” John said, turning towards their daughter, careful not to disturb Misha who had already dozed off. “People love each other for who they are, and because of that some kids have mummies and daddies, some have daddies and papas, and some have two mummies,” he tried to explain.

 

“Oh,” Katherine said, blinking a couple times. She seemed to be mulling the answer over. “But…thought it took two daddies to make a baby. Like Misha,” she said, looking at the two of them before grabbing another handful of popcorn. Her attention was entirely off of the film now and squarely on her parents.

 

John shook his head gently, reaching up to comb through Katherine’s hair. “No, baby. Mummies can have babies too. But I can’t grow a baby inside me, and not all mummies can either,” he explained, finding it only a little odd that he was having this conversation with an almost five-year-old.

 

Katherine’s brow furrowed, that was even more confusing. She looked down at Hamish then nodded, setline more at John’s side with a soft sigh. “Okay Papa,” she said, looking back at the film as it got to the part of Scar’s betrayal. Sherlock couldn’t help but smile. They couldn’t put that talk off too much longer. He gave John a knowing look and then rested his head on John’s shoulder.

 

By the time the film was nearly over Katherine had eaten most of the popcorn and had fallen asleep. Sherlock was bouncing Hamish gently, keeping the now awake infant occupied. “I never thought I would be so content with a quiet day,” he murmured. Granted they were waiting still, but just sitting and waiting…something he never was good at, it was oddly easy to do.

 

“I know what you mean,” John said softly. “Still worried about Mum, though,” he murmured, arm tightening around Sherlock’s waist. “I know Harry would have called if… if something happened. I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” he said with a soft sigh.

 

Sherlock shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise, John.” He settled Hamish between the space between his and John’s thighs. “We can call in a little while if you want, check in,” he murmured quietly, tilting his head up to look at John.

 

“I will. If she’s awake though I need to go see her,” he said, looking at Sherlock to make sure he understood.

 

Sherlock was keeping his gaze and one hand on Hamish as the infant moved about, however he looked up at John to catch the glance. Hamish’s feet moved as if he were riding a bicycle in the air, gurgling as he looked up at them. “Of course you need to go see her,” he murmured. “Perhaps when she’s doing well enough Katherine should go as well, might put her more at ease.” He let out a breath, worried about John leaving again. He couldn’t help that concern, but he knew that such a thought pattern wasn’t a way to go about living.

 

John was able to see right into the heart of Sherlock’s thoughts though, reaching out and cupping Sherlock’s cheek, pulling him in for a light kiss. “I’ll be okay,” he breathed when he pulled away, lightly kissing the corner of Sherlock’s mouth. “I won’t do anything stupid. And… and Lucian is dead,” he said quietly, looking down for a moment with a small shiver. “We’re fine, yeah? I’m just going to go call Harry.” He stood slowly, keeping Hamish in places with his hand and laying Kat down on the cushions before he walked off into the bedroom.

 

John picked up his phone and sat down on the bed, quickly calling Harry and learning that their mother had gotten out of recovery for surgery already. She was awake, but tired. Being a doctor, he knew that she should rest, so he asked for Harry to hand the phone over and spent five minutes talking to his mum, expertly keeping the tears out of his voice.

 

“I love you,” he murmured softly before hanging up, lying back on the bed and letting himself cry quietly in relief. After a few more minutes he stood, wiped his tears, and walked back into the living room, lifting Kat up before retaking his seat. He settled Katherine into his arms and leaned against Sherlock.

 

“I heard your tone change, you spoke with her then?” Sherlock murmured quietly so as not to disturb their daughter. He’d taken to bouncing Hamish again gently, settling the pup onto his lap. John nodded in response.

 

“Yeah. She was awake, but I didn’t want to obligate her to stay that way. She needs rest.” He let out a heavy sigh, though it was laced with relief still. “I want to go see her, but maybe later,” he murmured as he gently pet through Kat’s curls.

 

“Of course,” Sherlock said softly. “You go when you need, perhaps in a few days we’ll take the kids. It’ll be beneficial for Katherine to see your mother. Help put a lot more of this to rest. I’m sure Mindy will want to see them as well,” he added, leaning his head to rest on John’s as they sat in a comfortable silence on the sofa, one that was periodically broken by Hamish’s coos.

 

It wasn’t the type of silence Sherlock ever pictured being one he would be comfortable with, being so still as well. And yet, this was almost better than any case…any chase. Finally, the dust had settled around their lives and they could just be without one of them having to disappear, disrupt their lives and the lives of their children.

 

Sherlock knew of course that their lives would very likely become hectic again in the future but for now, he wanted this calm to last as long as it could.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for all of your patience, especially those who have been here from the beginning. See you on the flip side!

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any errors in grammar and such. I'm editing the best I can on my schedule and I'm only able to go as far as the grammar finder on word can go as I've switched it to UK English. But I figure a few errors are worth me getting to post again, right?


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